3 7 8 13
3. On a scale of 1-10 how much do you enjoy incorporating romance into the average story?
Uhhh, 2 and 9 at the same time? 75% of what I write has, at minimum, a tension between the main characters one could construe as romantic or sexual. Yet writing about any kind of desire also brings up a lot of shame for me, which can make it downright torturous.
For example, it took 3 drafts of the script for my college thesis film for me to admit it would be a much better/more interesting story if the main character at any point acted on his romantic feelings. I then nearly cried on set because directing the scene felt too intense for me.
7. Tell us about the plot of the first fanfic you ever wrote
I believe it was my version of a normal episode of The Original Series, but Spock and McCoy were having a very tense, prolonged argument that belied something deeper and unspoken between them.
8. What’s your relationship with constructive criticism and feedback like? Do you seek it out? How well do you take it?
I seek it when whatever I'm working on feels ready (rare, but it does happen). My initial response to negative feedback is bitter despair, but I've reached a point where I can, usually, quickly move on to deciding whether the feedback is useful.
I like getting feedback on fiction from other writers I already know and trust. Despite being in writing classes and groups since I was a kid, I approach group crit, especially with strangers, with trepidation. Classmates and writing groups have had strong negative reactions to such things as 'two men holding hands' and 'a character nonsexually wondering what it might be like to have a penis'. I'd be nervous to present anything more challenging than that (so, any of my other writing) for group feedback.
Nearly all the fanfiction I post has not gotten external feedback. I tend to treat my own fanfiction as a spoil heap for the abject, and would rather dump it onto AO3 for people who like that sort of thing than have a meaningful conversation about it. 😬
13. Talk about a writing experience that has pleasantly surprised you.
I wrote my first listicle at my current job. I'm embarrassed to admit that I really enjoyed it. I get excited whenever I get to write another one, even though most of them are about ball bearings.
I also like SEO writing, even though I worry that SEO's existence as a concept is an indictment of the world in which we live.
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ok I have A Lot of thoughts about the staircase confession (well really about Edwin's whole character arc, but all roads lead to rome) but for now I just wanna say that, yes, I was bracing myself for something to go terribly wrong when I first watched it, and yes, part of me was initially worried its placement might be an uncharacteristically foolish choice made in the name of Drama or Pacing or Making a Compelling Episode of Television but at the expense of narrative sense--
But I wanna say that having taken all that into account, and watched it play out, and sat with it - and honestly become rather transfixed by it - I really think it's a beautifully crafted moment and truly the only way that arc could've arrived at such a satisfying conclusion.
And if I had to pinpoint why I not only buy it but also have come to really treasure it, I'd have to put it down to the fact that it genuinely is a confession, and nothing else.
That moment is an announcement of what Edwin has come to understand about himself, but because it takes the form of a character admitting romantic feelings for such a close friend, I think it can be very easy, when writing that kind of thing, to imbue it with other elements like a plea or a request or even the start of a new relationship that, intentionally or not, would change the shape of the moment and can quickly overshadow what a huge deal the telling is all on its own. But that's not the case here. Since it is only a confession, unaccompanied by anything else, and since we see afterward how it was enough, evidently, to fix the strangeness that had grown between him & Charles, we're forced to understand that it was never Edwin's feelings that were actually making things difficult for him - it was not being able to tell Charles about them. 'Terrified' as he's been of this, Edwin learns that his feelings don't need to either disappear completely or be totally reciprocated in order for him to be able to return to the peace, stability, and security of the relationship with which he defines his existence - and the scale of that relief a) tells us a hell of a lot about Edwin as a character and b) totally justifies the way his declaration just bursts out of him at what would otherwise be such a poorly chosen moment, in my opinion.
Whether or not they are or ever could be reciprocated, Edwin's feelings are definitively proven not to be the problem here - only his potential choice to bottle it up - his repression - is. And where that repression had once been mainly involuntary, a product of what he'd been through, now that he's got this new awareness of himself, if he still fails to admit what he's found either to himself or to the one person he's so unambiguously close with, then that repression will be by his own choice and actions.
And he won't do that. Among other things, he's coming into this scene having just (unknowingly) absolved the soul of his own school bully and accidental killer by pointing out a fact that is every bit as central to his self-discovery as anything about his sexuality or his attraction to Charles is: the idea that "If you punish yourself, everywhere becomes Hell"
So narratively speaking, of course it makes sense that Edwin literally cannot get out of Hell until he stops punishing himself - and right now, the thing that's torturing him is something he has control over. It's not who he is or what he feels, but what he chooses to do with those feelings that's hurting him, and he's even already made the conscious choice to tell Charles about them, he was just interrupted. But now that they're back together and he's literally in the middle of an attempt to escape Hell, there is absolutely no way he can so much as stop for breath without telling Charles the truth. Even the stopping for breath is so loaded - because they're ghosts, they don't need to breathe, but also they're in Hell, so the one thing they can feel is pain, however nonsensical. And Edwin certainly is in pain. But whether he knows what he's about to do or not when he says he 'just needs a tick,' a breather is absolutely not what's gonna give him enough relief to keep climbing - it's fixing that other hurt, though, that will.
Like everything else in that scene, there's a lot of layers to him promising Charles "You don't have to feel the same way, I just needed you to know" - but I don't think that means it isn't also true on a surface level. It's the act of telling Charles that matters so much more than whatever follows it, and while that might have gone unnoticed if anything else major had happened in the same conversation, now we're forced to acknowledge its staggering and singular importance for what it is. The moment is well-earned and properly built up to, but until we see it happen in all its wonderful simplicity, and we see the aftermath (or lack thereof, even), we couldn't properly anticipate how much of a weight off Edwin's shoulders merely getting to share the truth with Charles was going to be, why he couldn't wait for a better, safer opportunity before giving in to that desire, or how badly he needed to say it and nothing else - and I really, really love the weight that act of just being honest, seen, and known is given in their story/relationship.
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