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I finally gave up on Ginny and Xanthe's conversation and chopped it short by having Professor Sprout restart the lesson. And I am going to avoid picking it up again by having Sprout pull Ginny aside after class and take her off to see Hagrid.
Hopefully once I get the rest of the chapter written, I will be able to go back and fix this mess so it actually goes somewhere and doesn't leave Xanthe as someone whose only purpose in life is to worry about Ginny (because that's just tacky), but right now, I wash my hands of it. Clearly I am running into some of my own ethical preoccupations about guilt as well as my own experience as a person suffering depression and being utterly furious at well-meaning people who kept trying to help me, and I am not currently able to resolve all that in a way that works for the story.
Bah.
In other news, I started writing another Star Trek ficlet in response to an older![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
15_minute_fic prompt (#110, from May 11), but the story I am trying to tell wouldn't coalesce in fifteen minutes. For one thing, it's too long -- 725 words is about the limit of what I can write in a quarter hour, and that seems to be only a quarter of the story, at best. For another thing, it's too... mmm... delicate, maybe. Or awkward. Probably both. And it required actual research about San Francisco, most of which will probably not end up in the story, but I like to fake at least a little verisimilitude.
This story (tentatively titled "The Light in Your Eyes," because I like quoting morbid Edna St. Vincent Millay poems) still doesn't deal directly with my issues about Amanda's death. I seem to be writing around that. Perhaps I am spiraling inward and will hit the topic straight-on one of these days.
In the meantime, I am trying to write about grief and love and people helping each other cope with horrible, tragic events.
...
Come to think of it, that's kind of what I'm writing in "Secrets" now as well. *headdesk* I need to find a cheerful story next.
Hopefully once I get the rest of the chapter written, I will be able to go back and fix this mess so it actually goes somewhere and doesn't leave Xanthe as someone whose only purpose in life is to worry about Ginny (because that's just tacky), but right now, I wash my hands of it. Clearly I am running into some of my own ethical preoccupations about guilt as well as my own experience as a person suffering depression and being utterly furious at well-meaning people who kept trying to help me, and I am not currently able to resolve all that in a way that works for the story.
Bah.
In other news, I started writing another Star Trek ficlet in response to an older
15_minute_fic prompt (#110, from May 11), but the story I am trying to tell wouldn't coalesce in fifteen minutes. For one thing, it's too long -- 725 words is about the limit of what I can write in a quarter hour, and that seems to be only a quarter of the story, at best. For another thing, it's too... mmm... delicate, maybe. Or awkward. Probably both. And it required actual research about San Francisco, most of which will probably not end up in the story, but I like to fake at least a little verisimilitude.This story (tentatively titled "The Light in Your Eyes," because I like quoting morbid Edna St. Vincent Millay poems) still doesn't deal directly with my issues about Amanda's death. I seem to be writing around that. Perhaps I am spiraling inward and will hit the topic straight-on one of these days.
In the meantime, I am trying to write about grief and love and people helping each other cope with horrible, tragic events.
...
Come to think of it, that's kind of what I'm writing in "Secrets" now as well. *headdesk* I need to find a cheerful story next.
