Author's Notes for "Letter to Blair"
Sep. 27th, 2009 02:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
starwatcher_fic.
Writing this story was... spooky. I was driving home one Saturday afternoon in April, admiring the new green leaves on the trees, and I idly wondered what Jim would see of the same scene. (I swear, TS has taken over my entire mind.) All of a sudden, I heard his voice speak the first line, and the story was demanding to be written.
I sat down as soon as I got in the door and started typing. I had to force myself up long enough to feed the horses and the cats. I thought about my own supper a couple of times, but ignored it to keep typing. It was a very strange sensation -- I swear I heard Jim's voice telling me what to say; I simply chose what aspects to actually put down on paper. And as I wrote... picture me sitting there, lump in my throat and tears trickling down my cheeks, sniffling like a child, while another part of my mind clinically considered the most effective words to use to convey Jim's message. And a third part of my mind noticed how freaky all this was.
So, I finished the entire story in one marathon seven-hour typing session. (I stayed up way past my bedtime; thank goodness I didn't have school the next day.) At that time, I didn't have a beta, but I read it through stringently to fix errors and smooth out any rough bits; I was suspicious of the outpouring, and didn't expect the quality to be any good. But I figured it was "okay" so, ignoring good writing practice -- wait a few days for the story to "cool" before posting -- I uploaded to the SentinelAngst list immediately; the story wouldn't let me sleep until I did.
I didn't realize, when I posted, that I was starting something. Blair's letter to Jim was already speaking to me as I wrote this one, although it took some time to finish it. But I thought that would be the end; just a connected pair of simple little stories. Little did I know...
.
Writing this story was... spooky. I was driving home one Saturday afternoon in April, admiring the new green leaves on the trees, and I idly wondered what Jim would see of the same scene. (I swear, TS has taken over my entire mind.) All of a sudden, I heard his voice speak the first line, and the story was demanding to be written.
I sat down as soon as I got in the door and started typing. I had to force myself up long enough to feed the horses and the cats. I thought about my own supper a couple of times, but ignored it to keep typing. It was a very strange sensation -- I swear I heard Jim's voice telling me what to say; I simply chose what aspects to actually put down on paper. And as I wrote... picture me sitting there, lump in my throat and tears trickling down my cheeks, sniffling like a child, while another part of my mind clinically considered the most effective words to use to convey Jim's message. And a third part of my mind noticed how freaky all this was.
So, I finished the entire story in one marathon seven-hour typing session. (I stayed up way past my bedtime; thank goodness I didn't have school the next day.) At that time, I didn't have a beta, but I read it through stringently to fix errors and smooth out any rough bits; I was suspicious of the outpouring, and didn't expect the quality to be any good. But I figured it was "okay" so, ignoring good writing practice -- wait a few days for the story to "cool" before posting -- I uploaded to the SentinelAngst list immediately; the story wouldn't let me sleep until I did.
I didn't realize, when I posted, that I was starting something. Blair's letter to Jim was already speaking to me as I wrote this one, although it took some time to finish it. But I thought that would be the end; just a connected pair of simple little stories. Little did I know...
.