I'm currently writing my magnum opus
Date: 2025-2-10
Holy shit, what if I die, like, soon?
New Year snuck up on me, smacked me in the face and gave me a concussion. Its symptoms? Feeling simultaneously suicidal and plagued by the fear that I would die prematurely, suddenly drop dead, and be snubbed of my future.
At its core, I feel miserable in this cold, gray, still winter. I'm scared for my future and my survival as a disabled person unable to work, but fundamentally, I want to live, and the prospect of a premature death terrifies me. Add to it chronic fatigue (namely, overdoing it and pushing myself into flair-up) and sometimes it does feel like I'm dying.
I felt this way last year too. It feels like I'm never doing enough with my life. I try (and fail) to decouple my inherent value as a human with my ability to work and produce. Right now, I'm a sitting duck with such limited support and little clue how to accommodate my (invisible) disabilities. I'm just trying to make it to the next day; that's the truth of it.
So, for the first half of January, I was feverish about trying to work towards some of my New Years resolutions, because I feel better when I make progress. I fully acknowledge that poorly crafted resolutions, or resolutions in general, set us up for failure and disappointment, usually because of how unattainable we make them.
My persistent (and irrational, but maybe not actually that irrational) fear of death (and not living up to my potential) while debilitating, also lights an odd fire under my butt and creates a sense of urgency that wouldn't otherwise exist.
My biggest resolution
I got this idea for a multichapter fanfiction containing my favorite pairing. I really wanted to write and publish this work before the end of the year so I could say I did it. Mind you, I've wanted to be a Writer↗ for at least ten years now. I, at minimum, consider myself a creative writer, having published 8 fanworks since December (wow!), while not accounting for their respective podfic↗ creations. The distinction here is that each work was a oneshot (single chapter) story.
Err, good luck with that
Where a lot of people seem to get stuck is in the conception stage of creating something. For me, I started by basking in the fantasy of what it would be like to have a published multific, and it feels nice and comforting staying there. It feels a lot less nice actually trying and failing as the fantastical illusion is broken.
For me, the fantasy looked like receiving regular comments on each chapter, enthusiastically pointing out what aspects they loved, and more importantly, it meant that this story was going to be perfect in all ways.
The steps it takes to get there
Do you ever yearn for something so hard but it is seemingly so far out of reach? Like, the perfect partner or the perfect job. I yearn to be liked within my fandom. I yearn for my writing to be good and I'll know it's good because it's validated by other's interaction (engagement?) with my works. One tough thing about wishing for something, though, and then getting it is realizing you maybe weren't ready to receive what you wished for.
I remember, in maybe November 2023, I built up the courage to post my first fanfiction. I worked hard on it and did the best I could, but I felt it was still lacking. Despite my fear, I posted it.
I always joke now that the fame got to me when, in the span of two days, I received a boastful 100 hits, 2 kudos, and a nice comment thanking me for writing the chapter. I was so freaked out by having my writing out there that I deleted it! The kicker? I ended up reading it later and it really wasn't that bad.
I had to go through the same process this December when I decided to try again with a firmer resolve. I created a work I was really proud of, and my writing improved substantially. Again, I had to build up the courage to post it. I promised myself this time, that I wouldn't delete my fanworks.
A compromise since then was to move my least favorite works into an Anonymous collection so I don't have to look at them. My poor black sheep works. Or, I debut a work as Anonymous before assigning it to my name after the dust settles. I also try to tell myself that the fic I want to delete could be somebody's favorite, and I'd just be contributing to their disappointment if it were to disappear.
How do I move towards action?
I've lived enough life to know that creative projects taken too seriously, considered too sacred, and expected to be perfect, will never see the light of day. Here's what helps me bust the perfectionism trap:
God damn it. I just gotta write the thing. I gotta write the thing badly or it'll never exist. It's not going to actually be my magnum opus. I've since adjusted my goal to just finish it to prove that I could.
If anything, I can consider it valuable practice for the next project. Here's a different way of wording it. I love how the unexplored idea is called a nebulous daydream. Make it real! Give it edges!
I have an Obsidian↗ network dedicated to exploring the process of creation, with themes of messiness↗, play and exploration↗, shame, and perfectionism↗. I've deepened my understanding with creation, ever striving to make it a less painful process, all thanks to my least favorite but most persistent peer, Perfectionism (and its cousin, Shame). In order to even allow myself to write that first fanwork, I needed permission to create "trashy," self-indulgent work↗ with the understanding that calling fanfiction– and by extension, smut– applies an unnecessary writing hierarchy and devalues your work.
The work starts
On January 3rd, under the New Years resolution spell and need to fill the void my choir left while we're on break, I decided to join a writing club. On January 5th, I made the decision to take my project seriously. On the 6th, I bulked up my outline (trying not to pants, with mixed results), mostly assigning it a beginning and an end, and watching 3 out of 7 hours of cutscenes to brush up on the canon.
The 7th and the 9th, I went to the club's dedicated writing hours. Writing this story became my hyperfixation and all I wanted to do. To my surprise, the first chapter I wrote ended up being 5,500 words, later expanded to 8,200 words and moved to function as the second chapter, as I inserted a chapter before to tweak the pacing.
Important: Setting myself up for further success
I also decided, before writing, that I was going to write the whole story before publishing it, instead of releasing it chapter by chapter as I finished it. This gave me the freedom to edit previous chapters and move stuff around if needed. And, most importantly, this decision reflected my motivation for writing this story. I am my first fan, and I desire to write a story that I would like to read. That's where most of the satisfaction is derived from. Hinging my story on reader reception is a surefire way to demotivate myself. So then, when finally posted, anybody else who comes for the ride and enjoys it is an added bonus.
I was insistent on riding the hyperfixation wave. With hyperfixation, it's like I'm given a potion that grants me near-superhuman energy and passion towards my current pursuit. I learned with ADHD/hyperfixation, that if I broke the momentum, then it was over. There would be no getting that energy back, at least, not to the same degree. And I knew that would make it much more likely I didn't finish my work.
Uh oh...
I got burnt out anyway. Some nights, I was writing thousands of words a session. In about 2.5-3 weeks, I had written 37,000 words for this project, with something in each of its 12 chapters and the first 6 being solidly finished. I still felt excitement towards this project, and I often reread it. I keep forgetting what I wrote and where, so it's like a discovery each reread, lol.
I wanted to keep this project going, so I decided to release the first three chapters with the hope of hooking in some readers. The first three had a natural arc to it and ended on somewhat of a cliffhanger. I think, with 3 chapters, the reader can get a better taste of what the work will be like as opposed to 1.
I figured that posting the first 3 chapters and then posting a new chapter every week would give me a forced deadline (sometimes good for the ADHD) and push me to round out and polish the last 5 chapters. Where my ending coincides, I actually don't quite remember what happens in canon, so I need to watch the cutscenes and take notes. Technically there's no rush, but the priority is on getting this story finished and out there!
The pressure is on
I got a taste of what I wanted. Readers slowly trickled in and I received two lovely comments to start. The second was left on chapter three, and they were excited for where the story was going after I set up a conflict. I was overjoyed to receive the comment, and see people subscribing to the work, but I also felt this horrible sinking feeling and pressure. I was feeling imposter syndrome. Now, people had expectations. I felt my writing in chapter 4 onwards fell short due to a lack of skill because that aforementioned conflict was quickly resolved.
I kept posting anyway, and I made it a point not to apologize in my author's notes. I'm trying to give my writing a chance and let it just speak for itself.
Today, I posted chapter 5. I've got a different commenter who said I've got them tearing up as they're reading, and feeling torn over the character's fate. I'm overjoyed my writing is eliciting such a response even to just one person.
In canon, the main character arguably dies, and then is brought back under malevolent pretense, only to die because it meant saving the world from said malevolent actor. The fate of this character is left ambiguous in canon, but I think it makes more sense narratively for him to have died in both scenarios. And yes, it hurts.
This character's death mingles well with my fear of death as I've infused it into the story. Sometimes he wishes for death– for release– but by the end, he emphatically wishes to live as he is dying. I'm working on putting more conflict into my stories, so I also baked in his gradual physical decay, and I've made it a direct allegory to the onset of chronic illness. He gets to the point where he can't stay awake for more than an hour at a time, which was what I experienced in Fall of 2020 when I first got sick.
Sending art into the void
I feel so self-important talking about my story like this. To be cringy, it's been my baby, and I'm still very close to the situation.
I could do a whole post about my obsession with the "engagement," the numbers. In short, I'm writing the story for myself, but the moment I release it, I'm opening up a conversation and hoping people talk back.
Nobody owes me comments or kudos, but I know that seeking validation over one's art is natural, to some extent. I hate to report that I get obsessive about the numbers, but it's sometimes the only sign that anyone is engaging with work I spent so much time, energy, and love on.
Reading other's anecdotes, it seems like fandom space has shifted over the years and people are much less likely to comment. Sometimes it's crushing and demotivating to just send art into the void and barely get a whisper back. It makes me feel insignificant. And I think the "engagement" obsession is, in part, a greater symptom of seeking community in a largely inhospitable place.
I don't have any pretty way to wrap this up. I've felt a lot of intense ups and downs with this process. Hopefully I can say sometime soon that I finished it. That I lived to meet another lofty goal.
