=Day in the life of a fanfic writer? Okay.
-rpm
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It's 11:30am on a Saturday morning.
The highway is free and clear. The breeze is a strong northern
one, pushing the ungodly humidity that Houston deals out 350 days
a year out. The breeze is cool, sharp, and makes me sentimental
about those faraway days in Chicago a decade ago.
Oh yeah. There's not a cop in sight.
And my sunglasses are working fine.
Halleluja, it's a good day for a drive.
I'm burning down the highway at a nice pace of 70 miles
per hour, heading to the University to get to work. The
car CD player is booming loud, angry music
Specifically, Smashing Pumpkins. Gotta love it.
In my mind a hundred scenes flicker.
Ryo Muhoshin, a sword run through his gut, falling
to his knees in the heartland of Jusenkyou. Ukyou
standing by with blood on her hands.
Mr. Freeze leading a horde of GENOM boomers in the
polar wars.
A hundred Ryougas pinned on a bloody wall, like butterflies in
a display case.
The Joker, laughing in a carnival as children die laughing
from his poisoned cotton candy.
I frown. The scenes are there, they've been there, but I can't
ever get the -essence- of the scene down. The music continue
to roar and a dozen fight scenes flash in my head. They'll
never get written.
Not properly anyway.
I don't dwell on it, just drive on down the highway with
a devil's grin. The imagination, sometimes, is far better
than any movie.
Ah, why I write fanfics? Heheh.
Well, some anime fans were drawn in by Robotech.
Others by friends with fansubs.
Me? Street Fighter.
A few years back, I was the street fighter champion of
the Univ. of Houst.
I wrote the internet guide to SSF2T. I was a name on
the alt.games.sf2 group. And this is where I got my
first taste of fan fiction.
Her name was Bethany Cox, and she wrote stories,
origins of of the street fighters. Chun Li.
Ryu. Zangief. Guile. Balrog.
This was no typical fan writing.
This was stuff that was of professional quality.
In ffml terms, she was... hrm... the closest comparason I
can think of is Lawson. But she's got a style all her
own, mostly. All these years have passed and I still
think her fanfics are among the very best I've ever
read.
As for Street Fighter...
Ah, well, time passes. My mind can see the flaws of my opponent, it's
just that my reflexes suck. And with the new little bits that Street
Fighter 3 has (parrying) and those spastic combos of the Street
Fighter vs. Marvel Super Heroes...
I can still hold my own, but I've fallen from being the
'elite'. I suppose this is how Magic Johnson felt when
he retired. Both times.
Anyway, my friends down at the university told me about
a Street Fighter --MOVIE--
A movie? I wondered.
Me, my cousin, a TON of others PACKED an auditorium and I
got my first taste of modern anime.
Street Fighter: The Animated Movie.
Whoo-ah. Kickass.
And so began my trip down to anime-dom, and my latent dreams of being
a writer were realized when the world of fan fiction was shown
to be far larger than I thought it was.
*
It's 4:00pm. Saturday.
I've been sitting at work since 12:00am. Got in early, actually.
Sat down in front of a computer and tried to hammer out more of
'The Pursuit of Happiness'.
Act 2.
The King of Nerima tournament.
The fight scenes. Lord help me, there's so many fight scenes.
I hate fight scenes.
There's been some progress, but I'm not happy with the results.
I never am. Just ask anyone that knows me.
My attention is divertied away from the monitor as a mousy
freshman of a girl asks why the computer is dark.
I tell her it's turned off. Just press the top right key on
the keyboard. Ba-bing.
Now... where was I.
Before I can settle back into my seat, another student comes up.
Clearly an engineer. He has engineer written all over him.
Complains that his windows NT account is dysfunctional.
I sigh, and explain why the engineering accounts work perfectly
every time in the engineering building lab, and RARELY work
100% here. I've said the same, tired lines for four years
now. You'd think that the university would have fixed the
problem by now? Ha.
After letting the engineering student bitch at me for a good five
minutes, as if -I- were the system administrator of EVERY system
on the campus, with GODLIKE powers to FIX any problem, I brush
him off.
Okay, back to the writing.
Stare at the screen....
....
blank.
The phone rings. Someone's asking of a Josey called for him over
there, and if I could look all over the lab for her.
This ain't a message service, it's a front desk.
I tell him I'll look. I put him on hold. I go get myself
a can of coke. It's my 4th can of the day.
Not good, but I don't care.
I log into a muck where Mike Loader, Chris Willmore, Lara
Bartram, and a few others hang out. Time to get some
advice and generally unwind.
Hm. Mike's not there yet. Kevin Eav is in. We talk arcade talk
for a little bit. Willmore's not in. Oh, that's right, won't be
in for a week or so. Ah, well.
Lara Bartram logs in and wonders why I haven't given her
any C&C for her latest part of 'Wolf in Samurai's Clothing.'
Aheheh... whoops.
Ten minutes later I tell the guy I put on hold that I couldn't find
her girl. Oh well.
*
It's 11:30pm on that same saturday night. I'm on a roll.
I send out the TPOH section to Mike, Scrivner, and
others and await their C&C via muck.
Meanwhile, on window 2, the muck crowd is making terrible awful jokes.
I see a sentance fly off the screen, and catch only a few key words.
Mike. Nipple clamps. Ice cream.
Hrm.
Must tease Mike about this...
*
It's 1:30am
I hate this.
The hour that my writing flows best is also the hour
that I just get damn tired and sleepy. I'm still at
work, in a nice, secluded office. Made some good
progress on three fics that I've got on hold
But... I'm... getting... sleepy..... *YAWN*
I finish the last of my 10th can of coke for the day.
Not good, I know. Especially when I don't drink water.
The Real Thing fails to get my energy levels back up, but
there's scenes dancing in my head, the WORDS finally ready
to be put to story.
No! No! Can't stop now!
*YAWN*
Oh damn.
*
It's 2:00am.
The streets are empty, but there's cops everywhere.
55mph it is, then.
I cruise along leisurely and put good old Harry Connick Jr.
in the CD player.
Brief scenes flicker in the mind's eye.
Converging Series: Ryo Saotome reunited with Belldandy Tendo.
The Pursuit of Happiness: Ryouga dancing with Ukyou.
BGC: Frozen Knights... the tragic Victor Fries reunited with
his Nora.
o/" The rockies may crumble o/"
o/" Gibraltar may tumble o/"
o/" They're only made of clay o/"
o/" But our love is here... to... stay. o/"
*
It's 3:00am.
I'm lying in my bed, under nice, down-filled comforters. Aaah,
down comforters, the ONLY kind of blanket to have. Well worth
the slaughtering of a dozen geese.
On the desk by my bed sits a two inch stack of papers.
Fanfics.
In case you're wondering, this is how I read 90% of the
fiction on the net. Printed in hard copy, in bed, with
a drink.
Usually fruit juice.
I draw a story from the deck.
Ah, Lara's 'Wolf In Samurai Clothing'.
The lemon scene. With Kodachi and... er... Kuno.
Oh.... oh my.
Twenty minutes later, I read through 10 other stories. Short
ones, of course.
I blink for a moment.
And blink again.
I notice that between blinks 20 minutes had passed.
Oooh, not good.
Ah, well, time to call it a night.
-click-
-the end-