fictional: (whiskey tango foxtrot)
via [ profile] rm: I found this delightful piece of nausea inducing vitriol from the mouth of author, John C. Wright. It's one of the most offensive things I've ever read. More so even than Orson Scott Card, which is saying something.

It's also really charming to see names I recognize from various fandoms (Star Wars being a particular offender) agreeing with this crap. I knew these folk wrote het, but I didn't realize it was from hate as opposed to "I just happen to ship this."

[ profile] faris_nallaneen: we were eying some of his books the other day in B&N. I think we can safely say avoid, yes?

If you too wish to express dismay with the power of your pocketbook, here's a list of all his works.
fictional: (regency girl)
It's no secret to anyone who's talked to me for more than ten minutes about books, but just in case there's anyone of you to whom that doesn't apply, in my opinion Pride and Prejudice may be the most perfectly structured novel ever written. I think it is shocking in its sheer, staggering brilliance. And snark.

The P&P industry's taken a new turn though... and I gotta say, I can't wait!

Because you know what? Zombies make everything better!!

No joke: this is Mr. Darcy & Elizabeth... battle the undead!

And get a load of this: just green-lit, Pride and Predator: i.e. P&P meets TORCHWOOD.

Who's coming with me when this shit hits the screen???

Also found on the intertubes today: thoughts on polygamy from MsNBC. What do y'all make of that?
fictional: (doctor and jack author)
It may come as a surprise to those of you who read IHNIIHBT, which is sort of a pornographic epic, but I greatly dislike writing sex.

No, really.

I hate it a lot. Which is funny because lately, we've been doing a lot of it.

Don't get me wrong. I love that our story is so filthy and x-rated. In fact, sometimes I even think it could stand to be filthier. I like reading sex. Oh man, do I. Porn, for me, is a primarily written-word driven thing, and it was that way long before I discovered fandom and its box of erotic delights. Think reading bodice-rippers and skimming my way through Tess of the D'Urbervilles at seven, desperately (and unsuccessfully, fuck you, Thomas Hardy) searching for the dirty bits...! Flipping through the Mists of Avalon for the threesome scene, etc. etc.

But writing it? A resounding "feh!"

For one thing, it's really hard [no pun intended]. Sex is repetitive. We have a finite number of moving parts, we have a finite number of slots for those parts to fit into. We tweak, we stroke, we push, we pull, we slap, we tickle; we get wet, we get hard. It feels great, except when it doesn't. And if you add in too many adverbs and adjectives -- you run the risk of sounding like a romance novel, a bad romance novel.

I don't know about you, but I have sex in my head. If my brain isn't getting off, I can spasm all I want, but I haven't come. It's no good to me without the brainfuck. There's an internal narrative always going on -- which mirrors to varying degrees what's actually happening in the physical, corporeal world. Sometimes, the degree is zero. Things I would never do "for real", things I would find actively offensive or disturbing if I weren't in bed, and believing that the things people imagine or play at in order to find pleasure are all perfectly okay.1

Thing is, when you're writing, the characters can't have internal narratives, unrelated to what's around them, because they're already in a narrative! Hell, they are the narrative. And of what interest to the reader -- who's using your story to furnish their own fantasy about say, Jack and Ianto -- is an internal, unrelated narrative that the character might possibly be having, if they were real? My feeling is, generally speaking, probably not much. Because that's like being OOC on purpose, and no one wants to see that, right?

So there's ways around it. Hence: dirty talk, d/s, drag, s & m, 3somes -- all games that are all about the stories you tell yourself. Narratives embraced and imposed.

But. I have to wonder, what are the fantasies of fantasies? What are the stories that stories whisper to themselves in the dark, or the ones they hold tightly to themselves, too ashamed even to say out loud?

Because that? That might be hot.

1That's what I tell myself anyway. Rationalizations: more important than sex. Think about it. Ever made it through a day without a rationalization? Yeah..
fictional: (the look)
there's something weird about this place, i tell you. it seems perfectly normal if you don't spend much time here. it might even seem appealing. there are several beautiful gorges, there's a town full of hippies, a prestigious college with ivy covered stone and brick buildings. wholesome, quaint, peaceful.

but no. it drives one to drink, to attempt to fuzz out the low grade depressive fog that hangs over everything. someone once remarked to me that this place resembles a horror movie set, just before the blood starts gushing. the trees don't seem happy, except in the old graveyard, where i suppose they cheer themselves up by munching and then photo-synthesizing dead people.

anyway, so we went drinking last night, to Stella's (one of the few establishments in this place that i feel safe in.) i like the coffee house, and the bar, and the music is never offensive. after several shots of expensive tequila, corona's and long island iced teas, the world seemed a much happier and more giggly place.

and then we went home, and stayed up much, much too late.

this morning, three things seemed clear.
1) there's a beautiful glistening sharpness that a slight hangover brings to a cool bright sunlight filled day;
2) i quite like the look of myself in leather and chains; and
3) i never deep cleaned my apartment after the hot water pipes exploded and flooded the whole place, and that needs to happen.
right now.

well, maybe after i take a bath...


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August 2009

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