I have, in the past, balked at trying fanfiction. It can FAR too often be poorly written and self-serving, neither of which is appealing to me. (No?! Realllly.) BUT! I've decided to indulge. Why, you may ask? Coupla reasons. First, I've gotten (to quote Zachariah) "psychotically, irrationally, erotically" addicted to the show 'Supernatural'. It's got everything I love: monsters, adorable stars, great characters, tight writing, decent fx and sturdy acting. It delves into the 'being' of evil and good, blurring the lines quite nicely, thankyouverymuch. And so, I mildly obsess.
I'm also having a really tough time sitting down and writing, amongst the trillion other things I have to do in my day. So I'm using my little obsession to get pencil on to paper and at the very least, WRITE. God knows I could use the practice. I've signed up for a couple of 'SPN Big Bangs' over at LiveJournal, which are fanfic fests, vaguely similar to NanoWrimo. They're warm and fuzzy frolics in All Things SPN, very supportive, and if you're lucky you'll get some killer advice from other writers. I'm cheating a little, and snagging some of the characters from my constantly-in-progress UF novel to run into the Brothers Winchester. I actually think it will help me flesh them out better, solidify the setting, etc. etc. And there's also an art component to the challenges; I can think of nothing nicer than to be forced to use the delightful SPN cast as subject matter. Rowr.
Since most fanfic goes NOWHERE out of its community, it's harmless to cross-purpose the two worlds. I plan on writing what's called 'case!fic', or a basically self-contained episode, like you might actually find on the show. I don't want to tweak the storyline as it's been established, create an alternative universe (that's AU in fanfic speak), foray into Wincest, or any of the other fringe fantasies some folks enjoy. I'm canon, for the most part. But I fully intend to write in MY style, in MY world. In MY words. *cracks knuckles*
I've found that lately, all the joy has been sucked out of any creative endeavor. This is a heart-felt attempt to remember that thrill again, that sense of compulsion. God, I miss it. I don't mind doing the hard work, but I need to feel like it's appreciated and it's worth it. I need to be able to stretch and grow again. And so, I'm doing that thing I used to think was such a waste of energy. Now, in one brilliant lightbulb moment, I realize where that energy is going: to the muse. She's starving for it.