Never Write a LONG fanfiction!

Here's a warning to all fanfiction writers and soon to be fanfiction writers: do not write long fanfictions. You have been warned.

One of my stories is fifty-six chapters long. Keeping everything straight is a nightmare. I've tried outlining the story for my own convenience and find it a daunting task. What was I thinking?

I'm in the process of writing the next chapter of "An Aunt's Love". Actually, I'm procrastinating. This is going to sound ridiculous, but I don't want to finish it. This next chapter starts the downhill slide of the story being "finished". Dear God, that's a frightening prospect. There may be only five or so chapters after this one. No, more like ten chapters after this one. It feels strange, knowing that it IS going to end and there's not much more work to do on it.

I had toyed with the idea of a sequel, just so I could tell myself that it wasn't over, not really, because I had the entire sequel to think about. I had an entire plot and characters planned; I decided not to do it. The story is told. It's finished. The original concept is displayed and there's nothing left to it. I'm done.

It hurts, being finished with "An Aunt's Love". It's my baby. It is one of the first stories I have planned, toyed with, created characters for, and shared it with others. The response is, well, overwhelming. Heady and intoxicating, but overwhelming all the same. The story has (rounded down) 1.4 million hits. That's amazing to me. More so is the fact that people in other countries have read it. They're all over. Singapore, Australia, England, Ireland, France Brazil, Portugal, Japan, even some places I've never heard of. It put my place in the world into perspective. People elsewhere speak four, five, six languages...I speak English and passable German (on my good days). I dabble in Spanish and Arabic. I know nothing compared to some of my readers.

My readers fascinate me. Who are they? Where do they live? What are their lives like? What do they do for fun (besides fanfiction)? What do they want to do for the rest of their lives? Are they young? Old? With children or still children? How do they view themselves? How do they view me? The questions drive me crazy sometimes, especially when a reader reaches out to me to help them.

One reviewer (whom I have not been available to find since the exchange) asked me where St. Jude's was so he/she could go there. I had to tell him/her St. Jude's is a fictional place, based off my own experiences in treatment and a healthy dose of wishing(I had originally started out making it exactly the same, but that was too restrictive for what I wanted to happen later on in the story).

I still wonder about that person and every other person out there that has taken the time to contact me to share their personal lives in dealing with their own treatment. It scared me the first time and terrified me the second. I am not qualified to handle things like that at all. In fact, I'm lucky to handle myself at times. After the third time, I realized that people were taking comfort from the story, as though they knew they were not alone, even if they felt it from time to time. It was a very humbling realization. I think that's one of the few reasons I continue to write it; it helps others, as strange as that may sound. Or maybe I just hope it does and use that thought as an excuse for me to waste time (or so my family says) to write it.

I'm not sure what to think anymmore. It's done. I have only a few more chapters to go. I must wrap everything up and hope that it holds together until the end. I already have my plane tickets bought to go into hiding after a very dangerous (to my health) scene, as I know lynch mobs may very well form, considering what I am planning....dear God, I must be insane. I've had the end planned since I started writing the story and I must say that I'll be happy (and incredibly depressed) when it's finished. Well, Harry the vampire is calling. I have to answer or the Muse will get angry.

Crazy, Crazy World

Ever notice how crazy your life can get in just the blink of an eye? Yes, that's my life now.

I haven't been able to write for days...days, my friends. Days. I've been at home with my mother since Wednesday and now my mother has followed me home. She's staying with me until Friday. Friday evening, after a long day at work (I'm not exaggerating), she and I must drive her home and then I have to get up extremely early the next morning and drive back to my house. Sure, it's only an hour and half trip one way, but I HATE driving. It scares me and makes me slightly panicky. I'm okay as long as there is someone else in the car, but I hate driving alone.

Tomorrow starts a loathed session of Turn. For those of you not in the property management field, Turn is the time period between residents moving out and new residents moving in. We turn the apartments to get them ready for new residents. Needless to say, we find some messy apartments. Apartment 348 and 346 will forever live in my memory. Scary, scary stuff. Very scary. It made me want to take a hot shower there and then. I can't believe how some people live in such filth. I'm not exactly neat, but at least I'm CLEAN. There is a huge difference between the two. Trust me.

My twin sister graduated from college yesterday. Go, sis. My question for her: now what? Of course, I'll be asking myself that next year when I finally complete my degrees (yes, double major in English and German). What do you do with a B.A. in English? If anyone has any ideas, could you please let me know? I'm a little tapped at the moment.

Lots of family drama, as always. I hate holidays. My entire family is psycho, and I'm being kind with that idea. I've decided that if I ever need to marry, I will kidnap future husband and force him to elope. My parents have both decreed that they will not attend if the other parent is invited. I'm sorry? I thought it was MY wedding? Why put me through such puerile behavior? Also, my father said he won't attend if I don't invite his significant other. I can't stand his significant other. She told me my four year old niece was possessed by a spirit. Yes, that's right. Possessed by a spirit.

Mind you, I am a paranormal investigator, but the evidence needs to be staring me in the face for me to think anything paranormal is going on. For her, everything is a ghost. She seemed offended when I said that I had yet to see any hard scientific evidence that ghosts exist. I've had personal experiences. What paranormal investigator hasn't? I still can't name what those were, or how the things I saw and heard could happen, but they weren't documented evidence, so they can't be submitted as such. Could I stand and say vows when my dad's girlfriend is going off about some ghost she saw on the way to the church? Also, my mother refuses to attend if dad's significant other is invited.

So, elopement seems my only hope. I think I might leave a note stating where the wedding gifts may be sent. Hopefully, it's in Europe and Europe has someone willing to act as a go-between. It seems that escape is the only survival tactic here. Anything else will leave me open to family retribution of not having the princess wedding they're planning for me. (shudder). Honestly, I would be happy with a simple Mass, simple dress, and pie. I hate cake. They want tiaras, veils, bridesmaids. Everything I'm not.

I don't think I even believe in love. I've never been in love. I love people, but I've never felt that never-ending passion that so many of my friends seem to have in their relationships. Hell, I've never even had sex and I'm twenty-four. It's not through lack of opportunity. There have been many opportunities. I just didn't want to bother with it. The opportunities just seemed so childish when they asked.

I think I've ranted enough. I'm off to see if some stories will happen now. Thanks for reading the above pointless babble that I needed to get out of my brain.