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Seven black rains of Slains
The moon tonight is the brightest shade of orange I have ever seen. It looks like a sodium-vapor lamp, only oranger and brighter. The girl across the hall made my whole floor go out and gaze at it. It's beautiful but freaky. Nuclear fallout in the upper atmosphere, anyone?
Actually, today was such a glorious day that I frittered away the whole day outside, earning my first "health marks" for the season. Yay! Geomorph lab in which we went wading and collected stream cobbles and I hiked over half of campus barefoot, then fixing my kite and spending most of the afternoon napping in my hammock on the Mall, then almost falling off the balcony while moon-gazing.
Several classmates found it hard to believe that I willingly crossed parking lots and sidewalks barefoot, not to mention wading in an urban streambed. I've gotten so accustomed to being barefoot whenever possible that I didn't even think not everybody is weird that way. I spent my first sixteen years required to wear shoes all the time, so when I got grown-up enough to take them off it was like a revelation. Suddenly I am twice as much there. Being able to feel what's under my feet, the details of temperature and texture, gives me nearly as much sensation as my eyes do. I'm both freed and grounded. The occasional sharp rock or mysterious slimy thing are every bit worth it.
Of course, it's also coming into literary magazine crunch time. Is it a truth universally acknowledged that all lit mag staffs lounge around the whole year, then design the whole magazine in one weekend right before the deadline, or does that only apply to ones whose staff I'm on? Thus, we've been having epic three-hour meeting severy day this week (which I wander into an hour late, but that's immaterial) in which we discuss people's submissions until we're utterly litted out and so punchy we stop making sense.
Doing this- and still wasting time with fanfic- has lead me to realize a few things. And I've stopped feeling guilty about reading so much of it. Because, frankly, fanfic writers are *good*. They understand basic literary techniques. They're widely-read. They have standards they hold themselves to.
Unlike, apparently, three-quarters of the people who think they're good enough writers to submit to a university literary magazine. I've yet to find anything on FictionAlley or ff.net that was as awful as some of the prose we had to go over. And there was even slash and smut, so it's not a matter of genre. c( :
No, there are things I can say in fanfic reviews that I can take for granted even the veriest newcomer (I refuse to say the "p" word) will understand. Like the concept of a beta-reader. Or consistant POV. Or coherency of theme. Or using punctuation. Or not putting author notes in the text. Or reading enough to realize what is utterly, boringly cliche. Or how to be artsy while still being readable. Which are apparently completely beyond the average college student who thinks they're a writer.
I think everyone should be forced to write in a fandom for a while. It's the best way I've ever found of learning how to write not-awful short (and long) prose.
Of course, it doesn't *help* that all the stories were typed in Word, but printed out in ascii. That is, I mean,
Of course? it doesnt ?help? that all the stories were typed in Word? but printed out in ascii?
Actually, today was such a glorious day that I frittered away the whole day outside, earning my first "health marks" for the season. Yay! Geomorph lab in which we went wading and collected stream cobbles and I hiked over half of campus barefoot, then fixing my kite and spending most of the afternoon napping in my hammock on the Mall, then almost falling off the balcony while moon-gazing.
Several classmates found it hard to believe that I willingly crossed parking lots and sidewalks barefoot, not to mention wading in an urban streambed. I've gotten so accustomed to being barefoot whenever possible that I didn't even think not everybody is weird that way. I spent my first sixteen years required to wear shoes all the time, so when I got grown-up enough to take them off it was like a revelation. Suddenly I am twice as much there. Being able to feel what's under my feet, the details of temperature and texture, gives me nearly as much sensation as my eyes do. I'm both freed and grounded. The occasional sharp rock or mysterious slimy thing are every bit worth it.
Of course, it's also coming into literary magazine crunch time. Is it a truth universally acknowledged that all lit mag staffs lounge around the whole year, then design the whole magazine in one weekend right before the deadline, or does that only apply to ones whose staff I'm on? Thus, we've been having epic three-hour meeting severy day this week (which I wander into an hour late, but that's immaterial) in which we discuss people's submissions until we're utterly litted out and so punchy we stop making sense.
Doing this- and still wasting time with fanfic- has lead me to realize a few things. And I've stopped feeling guilty about reading so much of it. Because, frankly, fanfic writers are *good*. They understand basic literary techniques. They're widely-read. They have standards they hold themselves to.
Unlike, apparently, three-quarters of the people who think they're good enough writers to submit to a university literary magazine. I've yet to find anything on FictionAlley or ff.net that was as awful as some of the prose we had to go over. And there was even slash and smut, so it's not a matter of genre. c( :
No, there are things I can say in fanfic reviews that I can take for granted even the veriest newcomer (I refuse to say the "p" word) will understand. Like the concept of a beta-reader. Or consistant POV. Or coherency of theme. Or using punctuation. Or not putting author notes in the text. Or reading enough to realize what is utterly, boringly cliche. Or how to be artsy while still being readable. Which are apparently completely beyond the average college student who thinks they're a writer.
I think everyone should be forced to write in a fandom for a while. It's the best way I've ever found of learning how to write not-awful short (and long) prose.
Of course, it doesn't *help* that all the stories were typed in Word, but printed out in ascii. That is, I mean,
Of course? it doesnt ?help? that all the stories were typed in Word? but printed out in ascii?