fssdfs, I made the mistake of telling my mom once that I write for a hobby and she immediately asked ‘oh, what do you write, can I read some?’ aaahahaaa no. No.
Oh, god. Yeah, that’s my ultimate fear. They know I write and that I write fanfic but they thankfully have not asked to see it yet. I don’t mind them reading my gen stuff (okay, that’s a lie, I do) but I might die if they found the less family friendly stuff.
My family has read my original stuff before. It’s less sexual but usually more violent. That also makes me want to crawl in a hole and hide, though. But then again that might be why they haven’t asked about the fanfic. lol.Why is sharing something with a person you know so much more painful than posting it for strangers to see? I don’t get this, it’s like, you would think because you know them and like them and they’re supportive that it would be easier, but then, you can’t get away from them because you know them and what if they don’t like it? It’s strange. I don’t want my mom seeing my fanfic for very, very obvious reasons, but I also get uncomfortable thinking about Nick reading my fanfic when he’s been the direct source and inspiration for some of it? I talk about what I write with Nick, but I get squirmyweird thinking about him actually reading it. Is it just inadequacy issues? Idk.
I think it’s cause you have to actually see people you know if that makes any sense. Like, for me personally, if someone I care about is reading my work I’m gonna watch them read it or pace the bathroom until they finish reading it. And then you have to look them in the face and hear what they think. I’d much rather read a comment. Then at least I don’t have to look a person in the eyes while they tell me “yeah it was good” or “I didn’t like it” or whatever. That’s how I make sense of it.
…
…
See sometimes I see conversations like this and realize that my family must be much, much weirder than I perceive it to be.
Not only does my mom know I write erotic m/m fanfiction, SHE’S READ SOME OF IT. I’ve worked out plot points (in porn) by explaining things to her. I taught her what A/B/O is. She read my original fiction, after it was published, and is going to lend me the copy she annotated with a few little grammar mistakes she found so that I can fix them and put the book out again. And that…doesn’t bother me? Maybe because she’s been viciously editing my stuff since I was like eight so I’m just kind of over it at this point?
And my dad, well, my dad won’t read the erotica, but he read my original fiction, and at one point he’s like, “hey, I met someone at church, and I think they’d like you’re writing.” And my reply was, “wait, do you mean my original fantasy writing or the guy-on-guy porn?” and dad said, “the porn,” and I said, “ok” and gave him the link to my AO3 so he could pass it on to the person in question.
My wife has read most of my short stories, erotic or otherwise.
When I finished “An Assembly Such As This” I put up a celebratory post on my FB. Which includes my whole family, all my real life friends, and my coworkers and bosses. I was clear about the nature of the story. People asked for the link. So I posted it.
I dunno, I’ve found that being really open about what I create makes connections instead of breaking them. Even if strangers (like at my workplace) ask me what I write, I just tell them, and yeah, I get some “ooooooh oh my” kind of reactions but it doesn’t break relationships or anything.
But I’m getting the feeling that’s just me and that, even though I know I’m pretty fucking lucky that this is my family, I may not really get *just how fucking lucky* I actually am…
See, I dunno what my issue is. Obviously, w/fanfic it’s the fact that a lot of it is guy-on-guy or girl-on-girl smut (and other things). But I don’t even want people I know reading my gen fic. Or my orginal fic. Or god, my poetry.
Because it’s not like I haven’t been encouraged. My parents, grandma, and brothers have gone to my live readings. My grandparents read my short published stuff and shared it on FB. Hell, the reason I write at all is because my mom encouraged it. She wrote me stories specifically because I had issues after my brother was born. We didn’t get toys often as kids but we got books whenever we wanted. It’s not like there was ever any shame to reading or writing.
I dunno. Maybe it’s because it’s personal to me. I actually have a hard time opening up and being honest about myself to people I’m close to. In my experience it just makes them mad and/or leave. Writing is the most honest I ever am about myself (and even then it’s cloaked in a lie) so maybe the fear is they’ll see through the lie and see what I’m really saying? Maybe that’s too much analysis, I dunno. But I don’t want to look a loved one in the eyes in case they suddenly realize something a stranger never could.
*shrugs*
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