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.
