frustrated
mik100 reading the incomplete draft of CvsE. She was over at our place (EDIT: Actually, aparently still while we were at the townhouse - my memory is extremely sub-par this week); I was sitting at my computer, and suddenly there was a squeal from the living room, and the next thing I knew, she had run into my room and was waving the manuscript at me. "There's ho-yay!" she said, all smiley and half-accusing. "You didn't tell me there was ho-yay!"
(I should, at this point, credit
mik100 for teaching me that particular term, many, many years ago.)I sort of stared at her. "There is?" I quickly ran through the story to date in my head, as she pointed at a particular page as I realised what scene in particular she was referring to. There's a bit where a bit character makes a suggestion as to another character's intentions toward another character that... suffice it to say, I'd meant it to be merely an awkward moment in a situation of crisis that the other character gets pissed about, not because of the implication, but because they have more important things to do.
Never mind. That's confusing. The point is, it had not occurred to me until
mik100 pointed it out that there seemed to be an underlying sub-plot to that effect.Here is where I would normally rant about the general bullshit of objective authorial intent in literature. I'm a lit major. I've heard every ridiculous statement ever made by academia on the subject. In general I think studying objective authorial intent, especially if the author in question has, say, been dead for eighty years, is pretty much a dead end full of bullshit.
That said, when I'm the one writing, and I find myself unearthing themes and sub-plots I didn't actually intentionally put there, I reserve the right to get spooked right the hell out.
I have just discovered a hitherto undiscovered sub-plot in my YA novel. It is ho-yay and I did not mean to put it there. But I am convinced that it is there, nonetheless.
It is WONDERFUL. At least it made me VERY HAPPY when I read it, eleven times. And made high-pitched noises.
If you write, at least if you write with the ridiculous obsessive kind of method I do, you are no doubt familiar with that glorious sensation associated with being briefly delighted with something you've written, and then realising you don't know how you wrote it, because it just HAPPENED, and more importantly it is a teeny-tiny chip of shiny pretty thing in a sea of CRAP on either side of it.
And what's worse, since I didn't do it on purpose, I have NO IDEA how to duplicate it.
I need to stop writing by accident. And also abusing the caps lock. And writing only at one in the morning. These are all bad habits.
Sigh. Back I go.
EDIT:
lilymc! Have you had a chance to look at what I sent you, yet? Also, you must send me Alisha's e-mail address and/or journal addy and/or mobile number, if she's got one. And then not ask silly questions. 