state of the h.l, and some thoughts on fic (original) (raw)

I am finally, finally fighting my way out from under a two-month crush of work obligations. I mean, I still have work obligations, but I should start having time for other things again as well. A few days ago I found some time to start weeding my strawberry patch; tomorrow I expect to be able to spend the whole afternoon in the garden. It's an immense relief.

In recent weeks, I've found myself very grateful for Tumblr, which allows me to dip into fandom a few minutes at a time without making me feel like I ought to be Doing Something. I have also been super-grateful for fic, and especially for the AO3, which, because of its ebook download formats, has allowed me to load up my e-reader with favorite fic over the last few years.

Reading has been one of my favorite things to do for most of my life, but when I'm as busy and exhausted as I've been lately, reading is actually difficult -- not just because it's hard for me to focus (though yes) but also because I usually read novels, and I usually read before bed, and when I am tired and worn out and start reading a novel before bed I either fall asleep on the book with the light on, which is not good for me (or the book), or else I stay up until 4am because I am so desperate to disappear into the book, which is also not good for me if I have to get up at 6am to resume grading papers or whatever.

I prefer novels to short stories because they're immersive and involving in a way that most short stories are not. What I love about fic -- my favorite fic, the fic I have on my e-reader -- is that even quite short stories are tied into a big universe of character and event and emotion. It's all the emotional scope of a novel with way less time commitment. I have needed that SO MUCH in the last two months, and I am so grateful to have had it. (And also grateful that I have had saved fic to see me through the tsunami of babyfic that has engulfed Glee fandom in the past two months, heh.)

But I've got a novel waiting on the bedside table; I've got the prospect of gardening tomorrow; and I've got approximately eight thousand open tabs, dating back an embarrassing number of weeks, that I might finally be able to start working my way through.

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