December 28th, 2005


I am aliiiiiiive.

Technically speaking. Alive and back from California (which is apparently a stroke of luck, and hey, did I mention that my flight out was on Alaska from Seattle to Burbank? yeah), and nonstop tired. This new level of sucky tiredness has been going on for over a month. It. Must. Stop.

Why aren't there more rape stories SGA? Not to make light of a serious real-life issue. When it's handled poorly in a story I feel distaste. But I don't think there's anything wrong with stories about rape. They can follow very moral templates--crime and punishment, a white-knight rescue and healing love, someone's triumph over degredation. When pain and suffering is fictively resolved with comfort and vengeance, it's cathartic.

I turn to rape as a story vehicle that can carry some of the most intense and desperate emotions, giving them a tangible, external cause. The most awful feelings I've had are associated with depression, so when I read about a character's misery and how they come back from it, I identify strongly. But in fiction you usually look for a strong plot reason for why a character is experiencing misery--how many stories do you read where someone's struggle is against the sabotage of their own body and mind? Where they lie curled up on their bed and stare at the wall, not because of something identifable they can point to, but because of some ineffable sense that everything is meaningless and overwhelming?

So, no one's writing *that* story for me. And if they did, I might find it unsatisfying, because at times I'm ambivalent about my depression--maybe it exists because I'm weak-willed--and if I were to read about a character who's "just" depressed, I might get impatient and think, Oh for god's sake, get the fuck out of bed and stop whining--the Wraith are only hours away, you have no shields, and John is in the infirmary with a collpased lung! Snap out of it!

There's a part of us that wants to externalize nebulous problems like depression--we want others to be responsible, to carry the blame--and fiction can give a face to our torment, a clear target for rage. And sometimes there *are* external reasons, but we still feel we should be able to handle them, that things could be worse and we shouldn't be complaining; that we should be stronger.

All that said, rape stories don't have to be nice. Actually the ones that are--that are carefully not titillating, that go by the book--are probably the ones that work least well for me. I want big splashy pain, I want to see the rapist gutted by a furious avenger, and then I want to see my character broken and needy and given over-the-top amounts of comfort.

When I started this post, I thought I had no talk in me tonight. I was just going to wave a bleary hello and ask for rape fic recs to comfort me. Mmmph. I also want more slavery stories. There should be collars and branding, and etc etc, see above.

And I don't want to go to work tomorrow. If someone could send a couple of snow days to Seattle, I'd be eternally grateful.

oh, and--

If you guys don't keep me entertained for the next few days, I'm going to write a story called "Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer," about Rodney "Mean Shoes" McKay's struggle to make it in the gritty cutthroat world of ballet, and Ronon, the hot bi-curious choreographer who teaches Rodney the hip-hop moves that will elevate him above the competition. Can Rodney's new moves win him a coveted place as lead dancer at the John Sheppard Ballet Company? Will Rodney and Ronon find love, or will the sultry and enigmatic Sheppard drive them apart? Can Teyla, Ronon's crack-smoking sister, overcome addiction for the sake of her leukemia-stricken daughter? Can Rodney save Elizabeth, his rich lonely mother, before she marries the fortune-hunting Lorne?

Only you can stop this train-wreck from happening. Give me love! Give me recs! Give me fic and kittens!