But after writing a while, and mincing my words carefully, and still feeling deep wellsprings of bitchiness rising, I realized with frustration that I was not going to be able to give replies without offending every. single. person. I. know.
It's kind of sad. I mean, I'm a fairly live-and-let-live kind of fangirl most days. And yet when it comes right down to it, I want writers to cater to my precise and very finicky needs--and apparently everything else in existence ticks me off. Who knew?
Dark stories, unconventional pairings, fringe fandoms--yep, hate them all, except for the ones I approve of, like a whimsical queen. I want to let rip and scorch the earth clear of all of that junk, and plant gardens of fresh smut perfectly color-coordinated and arranged to my tastes.
Sometimes, you just have to back away from the rant, because it's so pointless. I'd froth for a while, and then five minutes later I'd get over it, and people would be staring at me with huge, hurt, angry eyes, and I'd be like, "Hey, I just wanted to slag off for a bit--I still totally respect your freedom to write stuff that I can't bring myself to read," and people would be like, "Ha ha, we understand, Anna! Now please! Go away and DIE, YOU FLAMING HELL-COW, DIE!"
Sigh. Restraint is hard, and boring, but it's the better virtue. Perhaps I can just sum up my feelings with these simple rules:
There. Now I've said it. Shun me! Shun me hard!