This is the final entry for this season of Idol, and so I wanted to take a chance in one of these rare authors notes to say:
Thank you.
Thank you for reading, thank you for supporting me, thank you for turning out and checking out what my weird take on the topic was for any given week.
I appreciate everyone who has ever had anything to say, good or bad, about what I've done. It has been an honor and a pleasure to write alongside everyone who has written for this contest, and I appreciate all of you. Idol wouldn't be what it is without its wonderful contestants and readers.
I've had an idea kicking around in my head for the last however many months about someone who is fated to save the world, but die in the process, and what would happen if it wasn't them who died, but someone close to them. Now, at the end of Idol, it felt more than appropriate to write about it -- because it's about endings, but it's also about new beginnings.
Thank you for giving me a chance to tell that story. Thank you for reading it.
The end of Idol isn't the end of the road for me. I'm still writing, and you can bet if there's a next season, I'll be in it. Perhaps not as sonreir, but as a different name on livejournal itself.
Medieval bread was probably quite a bit different from ours, too, and you can read an entertaining post about it here.
I wanted to do something about coming 'home' when home is not actually 'home'. I live far away from where I grew up, and home has not felt like home in over a decade. Standing in my kitchen Sunday night and making a dish that my grandma used to make when I was a child, I felt a sudden connection to where I grew up, that time and place, and found myself crying at the idea that there is no going back, only going forward. From there, the idea of Jane and her plight was born. While she doesn't come home by sea, the larger meaning of 'nostos' is homecoming, specifically arriving home after a long and difficult journey, and the word itself means, in Greek, 'to return home'.
I don't usually give context on things, because I feel like the connection should speak for itself, but here, I feel a need to.
I view writing as being something I can't help doing. I'm constantly taking little mental notes, filing ideas away in a folder, making time to sit and write and put things together. It is a bit like having "homework", in the sense that there's always a feeling of, "I should..."
I opted not to go for a literal interpretation here. I've had the idea of a sort of government agency that utilizes magic (and requires an aptitude test to draft its perhaps not completely willing participants!) for quite a while. (Blame my dad the Vietnam vet and hardcore conspiracy theorist.)
Sophie doesn't want to join, but she does, and after a while, she finds: this is her calling, and she can't "turn it off" just because she's not at work. That's what the original quote said to me, and here we are now.
I've always wondered what it would be like to be able to tell the future. Somehow I don't think it would be in complete, neat chunks, but little bits and pieces -- incomplete data that you have to work from.
When I read the prompt, my brain immediately went to ghosts: who else lives on the periphery, so to speak, unable to communicate with us directly, and probably incredibly frustrated about that fact?
I like the idea of a friendly ghost, and the ghost here is definitely that -- eventually emerging from the periphery to give their report and maybe fix things.
I've never seen Pulp Fiction, but it's where my mind goes when I think of MacGuffins -- the mysterious briefcase that's at the heart of everything.
There's a briefcase here, as well, one that seems as though it may be important at one point, but ultimately is not -- and isn't *that* the point of a good MacGuffin? :)
sucker punch: to punch (a person) suddenly without warning and often without apparent provocation, allowing for no time for preparation on the part of the victim.