Interview!
Jun. 14th, 2005 10:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
perpetual_motionThere's a meme going around where you request to be interviewed, and the person you request the interview from drops you five questions. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
michellek asked me a very interesting set of questions. And the answers are as follows:
1. Biggest guilty pleasure?
First-run syndicated television. I have, at various points in my life, been addicted to the following B-list shows: Mutant X, Relic Hunter, Queen of Swords, Andromeda, Hercules, The Secret Adventures of Jules Verne, Adventure Inc., Highlander, and many, many more. If no one has ever heard about it, and it stars a bunch of no name people who love the taste of badly written scenery, I am so there. There is nothing more entertaining to me than wasting away an hour of my weekend on trying-not-to-be-shlock-but-not-really-caring-if-it-is-shlock television. There’s something inherently great about shows that pretend like they care but actually don’t. So much of television is either trying to be funny or trying to be desperately serious or trying to be gag-inducing, and all the first-run syndicated shows don’t even bother to pretend. They are the best brain candy a girl can ask for at 4:00 in the afternoon on a Saturday, or 1:00 in the morning on a Tuesday. Love them all.
2. You can only write in one fandom for the rest of your fannish existence. Which do you choose?
Oh, this is a mean question. I’ve written for probably a hundred fandoms in the seven years since I started in fic, and it’s very hard to pick just one. I suppose, if I’d have to pick, I’d say Harry Potter. There’s an infinite world of possibility there. You can just make shit up and go with it. The characters are so very layered and interesting that I could spend the rest of my fannish days coming up with ideas on how they are so wonderfully fucked up and never tire of it. Harry Potter is a huge universe, and there’s so much there to dig through that I can’t ever imagine getting bored with it, although I do fear that it will one day make me pull out my hair.
[And if HP ever fails, it’s early-West Wing all the way.]
3. You're given the opportunity to kill one person without fear of prosecution. Do you take it, and if so, who do you kill?
I sat down and thought very seriously about this question for a very long time. I think most people, if asked this question, would have a knee-jerk reaction and spit out a name. I know I almost did. There are a couple of people I wouldn’t mind knowing were out of this world for good. I’ve an ex-stepmother who did more damage to my psyche than I probably know, and a few other people who were near-and-dear who fucked me over with a passion. But, after some serious consideration, I can’t say I’d want those people, or any one person, dead.
I am a vindictive, vengeful bitch. There is nothing more satisfying to me than running into someone who has fucked with me and finding someway to show them that not only have I bounced back from whatever they did, but I’m also a better person than they are. I’m fully aware that being a vengeful bitch and thinking myself better than someone else sounds incredibly rude and mean, and I’m cool with that. I’ve never promised to be a nice person, and I don’t see the reason in being nice to people I don’t like. To go out and whack someone because I’m given a free pass wouldn’t be nearly as much fun as repeatedly running into that person and going on about how well I’m doing when they utter that ever-loved question, “So, what’s up with you?”
4. What is the most annoying thing a person can do?
This was another hard one because I don’t like people. I’m serious. People as a whole entity put on this Earth annoy the piss out of me. 98.9% of the time they’re lying about themselves to themselves or others. They’re rude, obnoxious, and most of them don’t have the common sense given to the paper bags that hobos piss on. You remember Ouiser from “Steel Magnolias”? That’s me in fifty years. So, the question of the “most annoying thing” is a toughie. I have decided that a falsely sweet person wins the prize.
I am honest to a fault. If I don’t like you, you’ll know it. If I don’t like your hat, you’ll know it. If I think you need to relax and get your ass laid, I’ll tell you. And if you play sickly-sweet with me then call me a bitch behind my back, I will bring the unholy wrath out of the box and kick your ass. If you don’t like me, you don’t like me. Fine. I’m a big girl. I can handle rejection. But if you don’t like me and *pretend* to like me, then you’re a bigger idiot than any love child Ashton Kutcher and Paris Hilton may one day produce. Politeness gets you nowhere. Politeness gives you ulcers. All the rude, crude, uncultured ideas you have about people will boil into a little ball and burn a hole in your stomach lining. They will also, occasionally, burn a hole in your brain and make you think that what you’re doing is very sweet and polite.
Bullshit. What you’re doing is lying through your fucking teeth because you can’t handle the fact that some people may not like you back. Good Deity, no, not that. You mean people out there can *dislike* other people and *live*? Who fuckin’ knew?
I fuckin’ knew. Don’t be an idiot and play things false. Honesty may burn sometimes, but at least you can guarantee that the annoying person you just sent crying won’t annoy you again. Small price, I’d say.
5. Describe to me your writing process.
My writing process is all about variation. Sometimes I sit down to write with a pen, some paper, and no fuckin’ clue. Sometimes I sit down to write with a full-formed idea. And sometimes, my favorite times, I sit down to write with a word or phrase or picture stuck in my head, and just let it ride.
After the initial writing phase, I do one of two things; I either tuck the story away to never again see the light of day, or I pretend like I’m going to get it proofread and actually do something with it. I have a terrible habit of getting my work to a certain point, and then stopping short. Or getting distracted. Writing for me is like a cat with a shiny object. I will follow the shiny object around until another, shinier object comes into my line of sight. This has left me with more half-finished ideas, stories, and character outlines than I can even tally. I love writing. I’ve done it since I was three, but it’s the follow-through that always kills me. I do major damage to my own work when I proofread it myself, and when someone else steps up to bat for me, I still get nitpicky to the point of deleting four pages out of a ten page story. Once, I deleted a fifteen page story because there was just something *off* about it. I am neurotic in my writing, and it causes me no end of annoyance at myself.
When I do end up in that zone, that place where everything is flowing, everything is being nice, I couldn’t be happier. When I get the revelation I’ve been searching for to make my work sharper and more intriguing, I do a little dance. [I’m not kidding. I have a “revelation” dance.] When my brain blocks up and leaks out of my ears, I curse a lot, try to write through it, and usually end up with a stack of crumpled paper piled on the end table by my couch. When it clears up for a day, then comes back as an apathy the likes of which I never have unless it’s connected to writing, I scream a little, pretend to ignore it, and worry that all my hopes of being a decently-paid, well-respected writer are going to collapse under me and leave me with office work and a useless degree.
Writing, for me, is a very draining experience at times. I put everything I have into my writing. Sometimes, all I need is five minutes and a picture in my head. Sometimes, all I need is three years and a half-finished story. Sometimes, I get so overwhelmed by the sheer amount of what I *want* to write or *want* to finish, I consider swearing the whole thing off.
But then I get the urge to write about that feeling, and the vicious cycle continues.
michellek asked me a very interesting set of questions. And the answers are as follows:1. Biggest guilty pleasure?
First-run syndicated television. I have, at various points in my life, been addicted to the following B-list shows: Mutant X, Relic Hunter, Queen of Swords, Andromeda, Hercules, The Secret Adventures of Jules Verne, Adventure Inc., Highlander, and many, many more. If no one has ever heard about it, and it stars a bunch of no name people who love the taste of badly written scenery, I am so there. There is nothing more entertaining to me than wasting away an hour of my weekend on trying-not-to-be-shlock-but-not-really-caring-if-it-is-shlock television. There’s something inherently great about shows that pretend like they care but actually don’t. So much of television is either trying to be funny or trying to be desperately serious or trying to be gag-inducing, and all the first-run syndicated shows don’t even bother to pretend. They are the best brain candy a girl can ask for at 4:00 in the afternoon on a Saturday, or 1:00 in the morning on a Tuesday. Love them all.
2. You can only write in one fandom for the rest of your fannish existence. Which do you choose?
Oh, this is a mean question. I’ve written for probably a hundred fandoms in the seven years since I started in fic, and it’s very hard to pick just one. I suppose, if I’d have to pick, I’d say Harry Potter. There’s an infinite world of possibility there. You can just make shit up and go with it. The characters are so very layered and interesting that I could spend the rest of my fannish days coming up with ideas on how they are so wonderfully fucked up and never tire of it. Harry Potter is a huge universe, and there’s so much there to dig through that I can’t ever imagine getting bored with it, although I do fear that it will one day make me pull out my hair.
[And if HP ever fails, it’s early-West Wing all the way.]
3. You're given the opportunity to kill one person without fear of prosecution. Do you take it, and if so, who do you kill?
I sat down and thought very seriously about this question for a very long time. I think most people, if asked this question, would have a knee-jerk reaction and spit out a name. I know I almost did. There are a couple of people I wouldn’t mind knowing were out of this world for good. I’ve an ex-stepmother who did more damage to my psyche than I probably know, and a few other people who were near-and-dear who fucked me over with a passion. But, after some serious consideration, I can’t say I’d want those people, or any one person, dead.
I am a vindictive, vengeful bitch. There is nothing more satisfying to me than running into someone who has fucked with me and finding someway to show them that not only have I bounced back from whatever they did, but I’m also a better person than they are. I’m fully aware that being a vengeful bitch and thinking myself better than someone else sounds incredibly rude and mean, and I’m cool with that. I’ve never promised to be a nice person, and I don’t see the reason in being nice to people I don’t like. To go out and whack someone because I’m given a free pass wouldn’t be nearly as much fun as repeatedly running into that person and going on about how well I’m doing when they utter that ever-loved question, “So, what’s up with you?”
4. What is the most annoying thing a person can do?
This was another hard one because I don’t like people. I’m serious. People as a whole entity put on this Earth annoy the piss out of me. 98.9% of the time they’re lying about themselves to themselves or others. They’re rude, obnoxious, and most of them don’t have the common sense given to the paper bags that hobos piss on. You remember Ouiser from “Steel Magnolias”? That’s me in fifty years. So, the question of the “most annoying thing” is a toughie. I have decided that a falsely sweet person wins the prize.
I am honest to a fault. If I don’t like you, you’ll know it. If I don’t like your hat, you’ll know it. If I think you need to relax and get your ass laid, I’ll tell you. And if you play sickly-sweet with me then call me a bitch behind my back, I will bring the unholy wrath out of the box and kick your ass. If you don’t like me, you don’t like me. Fine. I’m a big girl. I can handle rejection. But if you don’t like me and *pretend* to like me, then you’re a bigger idiot than any love child Ashton Kutcher and Paris Hilton may one day produce. Politeness gets you nowhere. Politeness gives you ulcers. All the rude, crude, uncultured ideas you have about people will boil into a little ball and burn a hole in your stomach lining. They will also, occasionally, burn a hole in your brain and make you think that what you’re doing is very sweet and polite.
Bullshit. What you’re doing is lying through your fucking teeth because you can’t handle the fact that some people may not like you back. Good Deity, no, not that. You mean people out there can *dislike* other people and *live*? Who fuckin’ knew?
I fuckin’ knew. Don’t be an idiot and play things false. Honesty may burn sometimes, but at least you can guarantee that the annoying person you just sent crying won’t annoy you again. Small price, I’d say.
5. Describe to me your writing process.
My writing process is all about variation. Sometimes I sit down to write with a pen, some paper, and no fuckin’ clue. Sometimes I sit down to write with a full-formed idea. And sometimes, my favorite times, I sit down to write with a word or phrase or picture stuck in my head, and just let it ride.
After the initial writing phase, I do one of two things; I either tuck the story away to never again see the light of day, or I pretend like I’m going to get it proofread and actually do something with it. I have a terrible habit of getting my work to a certain point, and then stopping short. Or getting distracted. Writing for me is like a cat with a shiny object. I will follow the shiny object around until another, shinier object comes into my line of sight. This has left me with more half-finished ideas, stories, and character outlines than I can even tally. I love writing. I’ve done it since I was three, but it’s the follow-through that always kills me. I do major damage to my own work when I proofread it myself, and when someone else steps up to bat for me, I still get nitpicky to the point of deleting four pages out of a ten page story. Once, I deleted a fifteen page story because there was just something *off* about it. I am neurotic in my writing, and it causes me no end of annoyance at myself.
When I do end up in that zone, that place where everything is flowing, everything is being nice, I couldn’t be happier. When I get the revelation I’ve been searching for to make my work sharper and more intriguing, I do a little dance. [I’m not kidding. I have a “revelation” dance.] When my brain blocks up and leaks out of my ears, I curse a lot, try to write through it, and usually end up with a stack of crumpled paper piled on the end table by my couch. When it clears up for a day, then comes back as an apathy the likes of which I never have unless it’s connected to writing, I scream a little, pretend to ignore it, and worry that all my hopes of being a decently-paid, well-respected writer are going to collapse under me and leave me with office work and a useless degree.
Writing, for me, is a very draining experience at times. I put everything I have into my writing. Sometimes, all I need is five minutes and a picture in my head. Sometimes, all I need is three years and a half-finished story. Sometimes, I get so overwhelmed by the sheer amount of what I *want* to write or *want* to finish, I consider swearing the whole thing off.
But then I get the urge to write about that feeling, and the vicious cycle continues.
