How I Make Fan Fics
Posted By: Frensa Geran<firstname.lastname@example.org>
Date: 23 September 2003, 3:49 AM
How I Make Fan Fics
And other things of little importance
The light was small. I could barely see anything through my crusted eyelids. Before I could moan a word of anger, the light shot up 10-fold. Now it was blinding, and my eyes were as yet unopened.
I want to scream out curses and signs of anguish, but before I do, my brain kicks in. It was just my Mom. Still angered, I merely mumble, rolling over and turning away from the light.
Her hands grab onto the covers, and rip them from me like skin, exposing me to the early morning cold. Her words are upbeat, and mocking, though I cannot understand them.
"Time?" I am able to mumble.
"You got about 30 minutes, get up!" She says, walking out the door. Not hearing the door close, I can only prepare for one thing: The dogs.
I hear them sniff, waiting for me to give the sign. Though I don't want to, my hand pats the edge of the bed, letting two 60 pound bodies jump up, and begin to lick my face. I can hear my mothers laughter.
Finally I am able to open my eyes. First thing I do is find the light control and turn it down to almost complete darkness. I wipe some crust off my eyes, and head to my computer. I see my workings of the late night. "Buried Treasure." I read.
"I'll never get this thing done. I wonder if anyone remembers it."
I do a word count: 645. "Damn, I'm so blocked."
Sighing, I head to my dresser and grab my clothes. The rest of the morning goes as usual. I finish my prepping, grab my half finished homework, and go to the bathroom.
As I close the door, my mother hollers from the living room. "The car pool will be here soon!!"
Perfect timing, as I am mid-stream, and the honks of the car reverberate on the walls. As if I am def, my mother screams they've arrived. I want to shout at her, but I can't.
Quickly I zip up, and rush out the door. I tap my pockets:
Everything is clear, and I'm off to school.
That's usually how my day starts. Very hectic, and very little time to do about anything. Coming home in the afternoon is hell, and I can barely do my homework, let alone write a story about a girl and a Spartan.
You see, recently I have been denied soda of all kinds. Thus, withdraw from caffeine gives me headaches. Mix a bit of that in with starting High School, and doing a Fan Fic seems utterly impossible. I'm also part of an online RPG, and I have even been lax in that too.
What's even worse, is the hole I've dug for myself in my stories. "Buried Treasure" is at a point where I can only have Master Chief do very miraculous things to even survive. Sometimes when I re-read what I've written, and hit myself with something hard shouting, "More detail, more detail!"
Getting positive comments is great, but only for so long. After a while, I became so well known at HBO, that perfection was the only thing I could allow myself to be. And unlike movie stars, rock stars and other people of familiarity and interest, I have 0 - 1% of a connection with my audience. If it weren't for the comments section, I'd be shooting in the dark. Sometimes I'll ask "What do they WANT?" And I'll never get an answer. I can only write from experience.
There's the fact that these people "judging me" may know slim to nil about writing, let alone how to critique. "Totally AWESOME!!!!oneoneoen! 12323/10!!" really doesn't help me. Maybe the people that give suggestions, don't know what they're talking about. It all could be vice versa, I'll never know.
Sometimes I'll think to myself, "Maybe these people wonder where I get my ideas from, or how I am so good/bad?" That's where I got my idea for this autobiography on this facet of my life.
Where do I get ideas:
EVERYWHERE. Every single genre of entertainment, and even other things are where I get experience. Believe it or not, the stem idea for "Reunion from Destruction" was from a simple suggestion I heard in Science class 2 years ago.
The question was about what we should name the theory of evolution. Someone suggested "How about evolution from Destruction." (As in, natural selection). That's where I got the wide, basic idea. Hearing peoples theories in the HBO forums added to the growing idea. Finally, I thought "What if there is a HALO buried inside the Earth?"
That's the end of the story. Now I need to figure out how it becomes. The rest is simple imagination, something I can neither describe or put in words.
So for anyone who wants to write stories, look EVERYWHERE. I got the idea for Rogue Beast from a Red Hot Chili Peppers song.
Where the hell is Buried Treasure 9 or True Purpose The Sequel 2:
Soon. All that I can say is that when that little cork in my head pops out, and my life slows down to a cool 70 MPH, you'll get your story.
To Be Continued...