Anna S.

I just tracked down and read janecarnall's fascinating Mirror M*A*S*H story, which I'd seen mentioned in ellen_fremedon's post, Slash shock, shamelessness, and a rec, which coined the term "Id Vortex", and also spawned a thread over on Making Light (Dec 5).

As ellen_fremedon said of Mirror M*A*S*H, "And it's THE MOST CRACKTASTIC THING EVAR, but... it works, in this supremely creepy sick-and-wrong immensely compelling way."

Heh. I liked it. I dance on the edge of the Id Vortex all the time. Last night I was trying to write up one my current fantasies (aka, the stories I tell only myself, my headcase la-la-la AUs, my private crackfic, my Dance of Dork), and I was like, "FACEPALM! How can I even think of posting this?" It was also hard to capture, nuance-wise, even in a bare-bones outline, but I may still try to finish and post it. Not sure yet.

This is one of those days that fandom makes me happy.

I was mentioning on another thread how Jack Davenport is the manly boyfriend du jour for Spike in the almost nonstop soap opera I have running in my head. (The guys change, the plots change, but the song remains the same.) It's yet another of those stories I'll never write, for one because the relationships I imagine are so improbable that they require epic build-up, and the depth of emotions I can conjure for my own benefit seem so ineffable when trying to translate them to the page, and because in this case there's that "casting" factor. I've always found casting directives in story notes kind of off-putting--you know, when we're supposed to see the characters as Brad Pitt, George Clooney, and so on. No matter how intrinsic it is to the author's vision, it's hard for me to go there. Plus, original characters--I don't know that I could write one for a fan-fiction pairing that would be as compelling to readers as, like, Xander or Wes. But anyway.

Which makes this attempt to sketch out a story especially goofy, I think, but I'm going to anyway. Because some days I am a loon. Also I am terribly, awfully bored and I want people to talk to me so that I can talk back, so that I can get through the next hour and a half of this thing called "work."

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ETA: I'm serious now. You guys need to talk to me! Please? Or I will go mad, and then you know what will happen, I'll start talking to the little stuffed Target dog on my desk, and people will walk by my cubicle and steal glances at me and whisper and I will weep soft tears and crawl under my desk and hide forever.