Aoife_from_Ulster
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Jun 17, 2022
- Posts
- 464
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). Finally crawled out of that hole a few months ago and wanted to shake off the obvious rust. Still not quite back to peak form, but I'm just happy my brain has come up with story ideas at all.So I was reading fast and my mind turned that into "by the anthro gods."Plus, there can never be enough anthro stories, and by the gods, I'm going to convert at least a couple people!
Bastet is the og cat girl waifu.So I was reading fast and my mind turned that into "by the anthro gods."
Presumably these are the gods of Egypt, who take animal and half-animal forms.
I'm glad you're here! From one small niche person to another.I'm writing here because, after almost 20 years, I stopped writing for 6 years. Life fucked me over hard, so I just slipped into a holding pattern of work and isolation, plus self-destructive coping mechanisms (the best kind). Finally crawled out of that hole a few months ago and wanted to shake off the obvious rust. Still not quite back to peak form, but I'm just happy my brain has come up with story ideas at all.
Plus, there can never be enough anthro stories, and by the gods, I'm going to convert at least a couple people!
I'm glad you're here! From one small niche person to another.
Thank you! I've been so touched by how accepting of this weirdo both the forum and the readers have beenI'm glad you're here! From one small niche person to another.
This is really lovely. I'm glad that you write/have written for all of those reasons. I hope the horrible Alzheimer's doesn't get you, and that instead you get to live a long fruitful and happy life. Long enough to see the back of the AI writing madness at least.I was always imaginative and everyone told me I write very well I should do it for a living but they failed to tell me it was near impossible to make a living from it. That only a blessed few of my favourite writers did not die penniless. Only a scant number of truly god-touched talented or very lucky writers earned their riches from their writing, but maybe they are cursed to continue churning out books for an insatiable fan base, their keyboards like red shoes permanently unrelentingly affixed, psyche and fingers bloodied. So for me it is relegated to mere hobby, for now.
Following the wisdom of Toni Morrison I wrote the stories I wished to read because no one else was writing them. Then I found people who thought like I did and lusted like I did, who like me must have lived in Paris with Hemingway, Fitzgerald and Miller and Nin. Maybe we were them in a previous incarnation. Drinking, carousing, fucking, rebelling and sometimes writing to please each other, to impress and infuriate and arouse each other, while the rest of the world largely ignored(s) us.
Older now, I thought I wrote because I wanted some small measure of permanence, of a kind of muted immortality. Even demigods could die. I wanted some proof I existed and my adventures and/or imaginative extrapolation of them had in fact occurred. Immortality, if not on paper then in binary code and I would continue like a ghost in the machine.
Now, knowing my genetic predisposition to Alzheimer’s, I just want to write them down and make them known before it all disappears, or like Rutger Hauer ad libbed in Blade Runner:
"All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain".