The Void Has No One In It, Yet I Scream Anyway · 7:38am May 16th
Or: I'm Really Just the Sad Blob From Zoloft Commercials.
Ironic, isn't it. Most days the Zoloft actually wins the war of attrition.
The key word there is, of course, "most".
I've been meaning to make a blog like this for...a long time. But I never found the drive to actually make it, and then my laptop died which fucked things up...now it's rearing its ugly head again.
When it comes to writing, I've had a lot of problems. Some are directly related to writing, others not so much. So much so that I have to slide into the metaphorical therapist's chair and ask the therapist that's not in the room, "Where the hell do I even begin?"
So this is gonna be a messy vent blog that no one will read. But on the off chance someone actually does read it...do bear with me.
I do love writing, and I've been doing it for over a decade now, but with every year that passes I just seem to derive less enjoyment out of it. Maybe it's the depression. Maybe the pandemic ruined that too, along with a majority of other life aspects. But as much as I absolutely hate to say it, joining FiMFic has only worsened this issue.
I first joined the site when I was actively writing In Odd We Trust. I had a few chapters complete and the rest sitting in my drafts for a good 3 years before I finally tightened my belt and decided to just finish the damn thing. Would people read it? People who weren't bots or scammers? No. God no. It took me only 5 years to find more Odd Squad fans on this site, after all. There are certain IPs that get people running to a story, and Odd Squad sure as hell isn't one of them. At best, maybe it would be like my YouTube channel, where I would make and upload Odd Squad memes only to find a slew of young children just looking for free episodes and being disappointed. People might go to my fics expecting pony, even though the long description and the short description and the tags all scream "Crossover", and be disappointed because it wasn't strictly pony. But I finished it. I published it. It was out there, and I moved on.
As of now, it's sitting with only one dislike and a meager 337 views. Three hundred. Thirty-seven. I don't think I need to stress that those are amateur numbers. By comparison, my next two stories, which were non-crossover stories, have far better stats. One of them I consider to be my magnum opus.
It's downright fucking disgusting. For a fic that has an unplanned mediocre ending, and with the worst characterization of Olive I've ever put to a screen, why does it have so many views? Who is reading this slop and thinking it's good? It's not good. At all. The second I hit Publish on the last chapter, I said to myself, "Yeah, this is 100% getting a rewrite."
Okay. Deep breath. I need to get to the more important gripes, but there's just a teeny-tiny thing I want to get out of the way first.
It's not so much the stats that bother me. They're low, but then again I'm not a big name around the site. I don't really write for attention's sake, though it is nice to get. Hell, every time I land in the Featured box it's the equivalent to finding $100 on the sidewalk. Only happens roughly 2% of the time, and that's an incredibly generous percentage.
No, what bugs me the most is the lack of comments I get on stories.
Which leads me into my next subject of the vent.
Growing up, I had a few friends, and even a whole entire friend circle at one point, but they drifted away over time and we didn't really hang out like normal people with friends do. By the time I became an adult, every single friend I had was online. And that's not an exaggeration, either -- the 'tism and the social anxiety and my overall ugly appearance make it very hard to find and keep friends. That was one of the reasons I drifted away from a longtime friend of mine who was painfully shy down to the soft voice -- she graduated high school, learned to drive, get a car. And eventually she stopped texting me with "what's up's" and bits of good news. And I just didn't have the mental capacity to text a simple "what's up?" back. I just...can't commit to friendships, and that's one of the major reasons why I don't have any friends as an adult.
Yeah, yeah, I can hear the pity cries of "that's really sad" as I'm typing this. And you're right, it is sad. It's not like I don't want real-life friends -- I mean for God sakes, we kinda need them to defy the rising morality rates -- I just need to beat back my depression and follow up, and find someone who accepts me for who I am without being weirded out because, God forbid, I stumble over my words when I speak.
But hold on. Hold on. It gets worse, if you can believe it.
This also extends to online friendships.
You see jokes about people getting DMs of "hi" and "what's up" and being unnerved by them, but for me, it's less a joke and more reality. There's a difference between knowing someone for something and actually being their friend, and so far I've mostly experienced only the former. I've had a few online friends who were just that, but we've either drifted away or gone our separate ways for some reason or another.
As much as I hate to do this, I'm going to use two Discord servers I'm in as an example: the Odd Squad server, and Estee's Triptych server.
In the Odd Squad server, I'm a bit of a celebrity. I have people who know me, but I don't have anyone I connect on a really deep level with. I'm faced with all these vents in the #vent channel and all I can think of is, "If I give advice, it'll come right out of my ass. Best if I just don't respond at all." It's a mentality I've come to terms with in regards to any vent I come across from someone I know. Half-hearted "my empathies" and "sorry's" are all I can give, but I refrain from even those, because when it comes from a dumbass like me, it just feels hollow. Obligatory. Meaningless. The fault will be mine if I give my best advice and it either doesn't work or makes the situation worse somehow. I'm basically connected to everyone in the server by a mutual love of Odd Squad, and when that's taken away (by forces completely out of my control, mind you), I'm left with very few people who share the same interests I do. So few that I can count them on a single hand.
In a sense, this extends to Estee's server. You ever get that feeling where you have your friends talking about, say, sports, but you can't converse with them because you don't know shit about sports? That's me. All the fucking time. I'm an outsider looking in, scrolling past stuff about comic books or politics or Avatar the Last Airbender stuff that I don't have a vested interest in. And no one in the server shares the same interests I do -- when I talk about Odd Squad or Pretty Cure, I'm doing the same thing I am with all my blogs and stories: speaking to the wall. It's...disappointing, because these are some big FiMFic names I'm conversing with. And when I say big, I do mean big. Contest winners, people who go to or have went to pony conventions, people who have actual published versions of their stories. On top of that, they're nice and talented people who eclipse me wholeheartedly in the field of writing. I couldn't even consider them acquaintances, let alone friends. I'm just...there. Existing. Boosting server numbers. Talking, joking even, but being largely ignored.
It...hurts. It really hurts. Is this how it feels when you become famous but then you fade away into complete obscurity? What am I even still writing for? Even my passion project, The Adventures of Peaches and Mandy, hasn't even gotten noticed, by anyone. The Odd Squad server hasn't noticed it, it's barely taken off on Tumblr promotion-wise, its FiMFic stats are laughably low, and the one or two times I've mentioned it in passing in Estee's server, it's gotten ignored. I spent four fucking years and counting building up this fantastic world, with characters I genuinely enjoy writing and genuinely enjoy pouring my heart and soul and motivation into, and for what? To have it be enjoyed by a party of one. What is the fucking point of continuing if I'm the only one who gets to enjoy it? This really applies to all of my stories (TAoPaM is more of a "for funsies" kind of project), but for fuck's sake, if I can't even get constructive criticism on it, advice on how I can improve, then what is the fucking point? I don't want to write just for myself. I want to write for other people. I want them to enjoy it. But if they can't enjoy something I love, whether that's TAoPaM or a straight MLP story...
There's really not much of a point, is there?
Aaaaaand segue into the final point of the vent. Tangentially related to the first point, but whatever. I'm banging this out as I go along, even though no one will hear it or care.
I've entered into quite a few contests over the years. The first contest I entered, FOME's Ancestral Tribute Contest, was more of an "okay, let's see where this goes" kind of thing. For that one, I actually did get some constructive criticism, which I'm pretty thankful for, especially since my entry involved a character I wasn't too familiar with writing. Rather naturally, it didn't win, let alone place. Which was fine by me, because winning a contest on the first run is something not a lot of new writers can accomplish. I was trumped by some crazy big names with hard-hitting stories who deserved the prizes much more than some n00b like me.
But then it happened again, and again, and again. And it continues to happen with every single contest I enter.
The process is straightforward: I see a contest I want to enter, I write for it, I enter the fic, and I get trumped by an absolute slew of big names with better talent once the deadline for the contest nears -- big names that, more often than not, end up winning in some capacity or another. Most recently, it happened with the third run of the Science Fiction Contest and the Wonderbolts Contest (though winners haven't been announced yet for either), and I fully expect it to happen with the Dialogue-Only Contest as well as the 2024 run of May Pairings, both of which I plan on entering just, and only just, because I have fics already in progress that I don't want to scrap nor deem "in spirit" entries.
I won't deny it. I'm envious. I'm greener than the Hulk with envy. I'm stuck in the middle between not being qualified as a new author and entering contests where I get beaten by more talented seniors all the time. Writing-wise, I want to better myself. I try to better myself. But somehow, it just...isn't enough. I see "we had so many great entries to X contest!" and all I can think is "sure, except mine, which you read only because you had to."
My writing. Is utter. Fucking. Trash. And I absolutely hate it.
I'm jealous of all the big names, the celebrities, the idols. I'm jealous of all the amazing stories they put out and the amazing stats they rack up. I'm jealous I'm not friends with them, getting advice and support from them, connecting with them. I'm jealous when I see them being friends with each other, getting advice and support from each other, connecting with each other. On the site, in Discord servers, fucking anywhere.
On the fanfic side of the MLP fandom, I'm just another person writing mediocre fanfics.
I want to be known for more.
I don't know. Maybe my desires are just a pathetically vain attempt to reclaim what I once had with Odd Squad, but with a different and much bigger fandom. Maybe this is just a terrible cry for help that will die in a sea of other stuff.
But all in all, I think what I want is just...some validation that doesn't feel hollow for once. Validation that feels personal. Validation so that people won't address me as "that one person who writes crossover fics about something called Odd Squad, I guess" and address me as "Marmy" or some other nickname within it. Validation that's just "hey, your writing's fantastic and here's what I like about it" or "hey, you seem like a really cool and funny person, maybe we could be friends?" Validation that reads something like:
Marmy is known for writing Odd Squad crossover stories, but every once in a while she'll put out a pony fic that, while containing a few flaws, is otherwise absolutely stellar.
I want...a lot of things. Maybe they're all unachievable. Maybe, no matter how hard I bust my ass and scrabble at the cliff face trying to climb it, I'll never get the things I want, even though a lot of them are unrealistic. I can try and make friends, but who's going to be friends with some nobody who hyperfixates on stuff no one knows about and has a sense of humor no one else gets?
I remember what people have said about me in the past, outside of the Internet. That I'm creative, that I have a good sense of humor, that I'm smart. I don't think I'm all too smart -- hell, I still don't; I see big words in ponefics that actively make me question whether it's an actual word or an overlooked typo. I know I'm somewhat creative. And I can make people laugh with the stuff I say, sometimes, genuineness be damned. But every single time, I stare at FiMFic, and I realize that people here don't think the same way about me. Because I'm a nobody, and no matter how hard I try, that's all I'll ever be.
I'm just hurt. Angry. Envious. Tired. Waiting, hoping that the therapy I'm starting soon will somehow fix this. Wishing, regretting, watching as more and more high-quality stories are being put out while I sit here with the literary equivalent of school cafeteria food that somehow still turns out like shit no matter how perfect I try to make it.
Wondering if I should even continue writing, or quit before I get so ahead I'm off the cliff and falling at breakneck speed.
Feeling completely and utterly alone in a way I once cherished and now fear.
...I know no one's going to read this. If I'm being honest, I set the bar incredibly low for myself all the time, in both stats and contests. If I set the bar for myself low enough, I won't be surprised or disappointed when the math complies after I hit Publish. If I'm surprised, it'll be when the algorithm deems me worthy of getting into the Featured box, and even then, "surprised" will be an incredibly generous word to use.
Once upon a time, I once believed in the old adage of, "It doesn't matter who likes or dislikes my work. If I like it, that's what matters." It applied to everything I ever wrote -- fanfics, episode followups, Twitter threads. Then I realized that's just a long-winded way of being in denial about what I put out. Not only that, it's unhealthy and...well, kinda defeats the purpose of writing. People do write for themselves, but very few write fanfiction that's meant for them and only them to read. Writing fanfiction that's meant for me and only me to read isn't my intent and never will be my intent.
Assuming there's a human being with eyes that's actually reading this, you might be asking, "Okay, so...I'm confused. What do you want? How can we help? Or are you just here to bitch and moan?"
Really, I don't ask for much. Even a positive comment on a story, even constructive criticism that balances out the good and bad parts of my story, goes a long way. But I guess what I want most is...acceptance. Maybe I won't be noticed by the big talented names and become a big talented name myself, known for writing stuff in a specific genre or with a specific character. Maybe I'll always be seen as inferior. Maybe I'll be known for being in that place in the proverbial barrel between AI writers and the superbly talented ones.
But if I can just be accepted and seen as someone writing and trying their best, someone who actually puts out quality stories to some extent or another, someone who tries to be nice and not be an insufferable asshole...then I think that'll be good enough for me.
Like I said, this was a messy vent blog that I wrote when I was suffering from chronic fatigue and a bit of a headache, so it's all over the place. I've had this bottled up for a few years now, and even though no one will read it, it's...a little freeing to get out. I mean, I've screamed into the void for year after year, and the void I come face-to-face with on FiMFic is no different.
Maybe it's because I very rarely vent in general, whether that's in a blog post or to someone. Because I know no one gives a shit. There's no audience. It's just me, myself, and I.
But I am glad I did. I feel...a little better. Just a smidge, though.
Hoping I can feel a lot better sometime soon -- friends, acceptance, quality stories, and all.
