i actually think that what's being missed in the 'why does everyone love heated rivalry' conversation is just that it's good
it's well made, well shot, well directed, the music is interesting, the costumes are both thoughtful and subtly period accurate, the sex scenes are intentional and, again, accurate to what hooking up when you're like 18 actually feels like...the actors are of course attractive but they look like real people. the characters are varied and well fleshed out, the acting is really, really strong
so many shows and films shoot and then slot in whatever music kind of fits or could be licenced in the budget after time, but you can tell that the scenes in hr were shot with that specific music in mind. and the same intentional approach runs through the whole thing
it feels...so nice to watch a show that cares about itself
Nobody knew in advance that this show would become a massive international phenomenon. It was a mid-budget Canadian show (which means low budget by US standards) adapted from a Harlequin romance novel. The deal with HBO for US distribution rights was only signed a few weeks before it began to air.
But everybody involved treated it as if it was serious art anyway. Not just some little Canadian streaming show that might well disappear after airing. Based on a book from a genre that is usually ridiculed by people who consider themselves serious film people. The cast, the crew, the writer/director, the music supervisor, everybody. They all did their best work for love of the game.
Thank you @thewholelemon @monbons and @leithillustration for the recent tags.
I feel like I don’t have much of an update. Picket Fences is still being revised but I feel we’re nearing done. And even though I’ve write most days, it’s only 20 minutes here, an hour there and very little that’s shareable.
BUT that ill-advised Hollanov Fic that I had no business starting… that’s has become shareable.
It’s way more than 6 sentences, but I couldn’t decide where to stop. Enjoy
“I, uh,” Shane mumbles, his face turning pink in a way that Ilya knows only comes with an embarrassing confession. “I like watching you. It’s kinda hot.”
“Hot?”
“You don’t even have to think about it. Like my dad, you just know what to do?”
“You think your dad is hot?”
“You’re such a fucking asshole. Obviously not.”
“But I am?” Ilya asks, poking at Shane in a way that only he can. “Hot?”
Shane is fighting a smile, moving his mouth around to stop it from curling upward. “Obviously.”
Hello friends, I hope you're all well. It's been a while since I last posted anything, so I'm really pleased to be sharing this wip with you now.
I've been worried a lot about my writing recently— struggling with motivation, questioning what it's all for, lamenting how unrealistic/unattainable it feels when I dream of writing a whole book and getting it published. So far the main conclusion I've reached is: if I want to actually write, I have to write. Everything else is beside the point if I'm not actually putting words down. So I set myself a reasonably attainable goal of writing for at least 15 mins every day for 5 days, and actually finishing a Snowbaz WIP I've been working on since January, to prove to myself that I can 1. write stuff that isn’t completely terrible, and 2. actually finish something thats more than a 1k one shot.
I am now on day 6, and I've written for well over an hour most days, and the fic I wanted to complete is now 10k and in its beta stage. I'm so pleased at having got to that stage, and very excited to share it with you when it’s done.
For now, here is a little bit of ridiculous Snowbaz animosity from the final chapter (Baz pov):
He climbs into the back with a huff, holding his tray at a precarious angle as he clips his seatbelt into place.
I watch Snow's two coffee cups teeter on the edge of spilling. I try to hold it back, but a strangled sound of frustration escapes my throat. "Well if you'd bloody taken one, it wouldn't be spilling, would it?" He snaps, righting the flimsy cardboard tray, but not before the greasy bag of pastries flops onto the seat beside him.
Without completely turning, I hold my hand out, snapping my fingers irritably when he doesn't respond. Simon places a warm cup in my hand. It smells of hazelnut syrup. All at once I picture how different this morning could have been had Snow not deserted me yet again. Buttery pastries and hot coffee in bed with a dazzling boy I haven't stopped thinking about in a year. The idea threatens to break me.
Instead of crumpling into the seat like the dropped bag of pastries, I roll down my window and pointedly drop my entire coffee cup into a hedge. (Normally I wouldn't dream of littering, but I'm making a point here. I will not be softened by sugary drinks, no matter how much I'm craving the caffeine.)
"Well now you're just being an arse!" Simon growls over my shoulder as I'm starting the engine.
Now I know I can actually get to the end of a full draft of something, I’m aiming to start working on some og things once more. It feels a lot more scary than writing for fandoms, so we’ll see how it goes. Please wish me luck 😬
Hugs to everyone below, and a pressure-free invite to post any wips you’re working on if you feel like sharing (:
Thanks for the recent tags @thewholelemon and @leithillustration. It's been a while since I've posted an update, but I figured I might as well since the month is almost over and I posted some pretty elaborate art this month.
In case you missed it:
* Pride Month Proposal
* The World's Cutest Lemonade Stand for @thewholelemon's birthday
* Snowbaz Meets Rainbow! (Rainbow *loved* this so much. It made me very happy.)
Some doll previews and some thoughts on sentences under the cut if you're interested.
STITCHES
I have settled on a COC concept, which is--somehow--even more elaborate and ambitious than the past two years. There is no way I will finish in time unless I become a literal doll factory, so I've spent a vast majority of my first three weeks of summer sewing. Here are some fun, in progress previews, including a tiny, fully lined waist coat, my first Dryad, and a sorcerer's fancy jacket!
SENTENCES
God, I miss being able to write. As @leithillustration mentioned in a recent post, writing original stuff is so.much.harder. I've been spinning my wheels on the same 6k words for weeks. Every time I sit down, I hate everything I've written AND the fact that I have to write at all---which is making me start to wonder if maybe this isn't for me? Like, is this just what it feels like to write a book and I need to persevere, get to know my characters, and eventually words will come? Or is this a sign from the universe that I like writing fics, and have no business writing books? I don't know.
Either way, the first time I got excited for ANY writing in the recent past was after I finished reading The Everlasting by Alix E. Harrow. The whole time I was reading, I kept thinking, "this would make an excellent Snowbaz AU." I even started plotting it a bit and drafted the opening chapter, but I no longer have the hubris of my early fic writing days and realized very quickly what a daunting task it would be to AU-ify a NYT bestseller 😂 (I still cannot believe I wrote an AU of The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue as my third fic EVER. The audacity. lol)
In any case, here are too many sentences of that because someone should see them. Pink is taken directly from the inspiring work. Lemme know if this is worth pursuing!
It begins where it ends—in the Wavering Wood.
The wood looms at the outskirts of town like a dragon of old, its towering trees and unruly underbrush knit so tight that the sun is a stranger to the forest floor. Year after year, the wind howls with rage and storms rend and uproot. Still, the beast crouches, a wild thing, safeguarding her treasure. For at the heart of the wood is an ancient yew, and its gnarled branches curl protectively around the winged hilt of a waiting sword.
You already know the name of that sword, I think. Who doesn’t?
They say there is a strange magic, in the wood. They say many things are lost there among the knot of trees: years, hearts, lives. But they say, too, that some things are found: fates and fortunes, beginnings and endings.
And, once, a child. You know his name, too.
He was just a wee thing when the goatherd found him, as red-faced and mewling as any babe when first struck by the harsh coldness of the world. The goatherd’s nannies sometimes birthed kids in fields far from home. A human woman was no nanny, but any creature could grow confused. She waited that first day, the wee one bundled tightly in her arms. She waited a second day. And a third. A fourth, even. No one ever came, so the child became hers.
Anyway, hellos, high-fives, and good wishes. May your creative pursuits bring you only joy and no headaches!
Hello honey bees! Happy last Sunday of Pride Month! how are you? It's been a while. I feel like I've been on a mental roller coaster, not because of anything I can put my finger on but just because that is how it is sometimes, but I also feel like I'm starting to settle out in a positive way. Here's hoping.
I've been traveling and instead of doing useful things like unpacking or doing laundry, I was thinking about Simon making fun of Baz's terrible date at the British Museum from Carry On, and started wondering--what if he'd said that out loud instead of in his head? What would that change?
Then I took out a copy of the ebook from the library and started rewriting that entire section of Chapter 60 just for fun. We'll see if I can keep my inspiration going or if it evaporates once I figure out what time zone I'm in and what day it is.
Tags and snippet below. Pink is copy/paste canon, which I've been incorporating throughout.
“Oh, piss off,” I tell him. I wonder if this is why he’s never had a girlfriend. “This is probably why you’ve never had a girlfriend. Because you’d take her on dates to the library, then insist on sitting there creepily while she ate dinner alone.”
He looks at me for a solid thirty seconds. He looks so surprised I think he’s forgotten to raise his eyebrow. Finally he says, “This isn’t a date, Snow.”
I sputter. “I know—I didn’t—”
“Did you want it to be a date?”
“Fuck off, Baz, you knew what I meant.”
How are you? What are you up to? feel free to hit me in the comments if you don't have an entire post in you today! @grynve here are my recs for you--all my favorite people:
snowghoul
origamiaround
amandla
tangentwithtanner
turnnoffyourmind
gummygunk
