Consternation is the theme for me this week. No that the week has been bad, per se. It's a little early in the week to render that judgment. But events have filled me with consternation. Today, our new overlords, er landlords, commenced jack hammering the pool. I'm assuming that is being done to replace said pool. All I know is I have a headache and the dust is giving me fits despite the closed windows and doors. But that's not the only reason for my agitated state-- it's just the loudest.As a former slash writer, I am often placed in potentially awkward situations with actors. Many of the ones I've met or have worked with are aware of slash on the net. And they have some pretty strong opinions. I always have to out myself as a slasher before some well-meaning fan does.
The revelation has yet to cause me any problems in my film career so far as the actors are concerned. Though I have been in the incredibly embarrassing position of explaining Real Person Slash (RPS) when I want nothing to do with it. The fans are another story. I can always tell when Trekkies has run on cable. I get a burst of hate mail claiming that I have ruined the franchise. I am awaiting a backlash from Fullmetal Alchemist fans when they discover who my narrators on the book trailer are. And I realize that many FMA fans are really young, but I have no intention of promoting anywhere that's age inappropriate. I've even child protected this blog as I do all of my sites with registration on the sites that support child block software and I have warnings. Children shouldn't even be looking at any of my pages. I know that won't matter. Like the affronted Trek fans, the affronted FMA fans will think I am trying to besmirch that series. All of this is howlingly funny as I also received a number of notes to me or about me concerning the Slash and Burn anthology. I seems in some circles, I don't really know enough about slash to make this sort of call for fiction. This gets frustrating, and fills me with consternation, I tell ya.
But the thing that has me in an uproar this week is that I can't really talk about what I'd like to talk about in my blog. The high powered Beverly Hills type guy is pretty net savvy. He does appreciate the value of good net buzz (despite the negligible affect of the ticket sales of Snakes on a Plane). However, he likes a controlled release of information, especially before all the contracts are signed. I get that, and I agree with it. But it makes me nuts to go through grief over fandom and not get to talk about the cool stuff that's going on. And I know you're thinking 'how could he find out what you write in the blog?' A few months ago I would have agreed. However, according to my stat counter, I've had hits on my blog that stemmed from searches on the web for Elizabethan cooking (I have no idea why) to the French Rugby Calendar. All I have to do is mention The Privateers, and someone will find the blog because of it. And most of the stories have to have references by name to really make sense.
Thus, I am censored for now. I'll have more on the next book next Monday. But the good news is that the jackhammers have stopped.