Pedestrian plod

[gwyn]

I was so thrilled to get the Vividcon discs and then watch all the vids I'd missed from the different shows, or had loved and wanted to see again. So after saying that vids made me happy, I found they also made me really depressed. Because, you know, I'm nothing if not mercurial. It's just that some of the vids on the collection were so accomplished and stunning in their editing techniques or use of effects that I ended up feeling hopelessly pedestrian and workmanlike, something that, for me, is one of the worst things you can be. And I know, everyone harps on this -- that effects and transitions and such don't make a good vid. But on some of the things I saw here, the effects were used powerfully to enhance the storytelling and create new layers and depth to the story and characters.

It made me realize that even if a copy of Final Cut Pro dropped from the sky onto my head and God spoke to me, saying, "Gwyneth, go forth and make good vids with this!" I still would never "see" these kinds of added layers to stories, or come up with much beyond the basics in terms of editing techniques and effects and ways to use them. I don't know if it's because I vidded on VCRs for so long, and so my mind doesn't go there, or if it's simply (and I suspect it's more this) that I'm not creative enough, that I'm not talented enough to envision doing something different and cool and really sophisticated. I know I've only had the computer for less than half a year, and I don't have a sophisticated editing program, and just getting clips into the computer is such a complicated and lengthy process without passthrough and all, that by the time I get down to making the vid I'm kind of exhausted, but viewing the four things I've done so far, and then watching the con discs, I just... bleh. There's such a sense of plodding, of... basics. I'm not saying they're bad vids, just that they're, at best, workmanlike.

Twice at con shows an acquaintance has said afterwards that she didn't remember a thing about my vids, but she remembered that she liked them. That was meant well, of course, but it couldn't have been more cutting. It says your work is unmemorable, pedestrian, particularly when compared against the other things in the show that were memorable. And I think when you're exposing your work in a show or environment where there's so much good stuff that is memorable, it adds an extra layer of paranoia and anxiety to that which already plagues most vidders. Or at least, a lot of us old skool vidders. (And I think at this point I just need to stop making Spike vids because I keep putting things in shows where someone else makes a jaw-droppingly kickass vid that makes me feel like even more of a workmanlike putz.) For instance, all of the challenge show vids blew me away -- their techniques were amazing, fantastic editing, all of them were great. And even while I was admiring them, I was realizing I could never make anything as accomplished as those. I hadn't seen sockkpuppett's Spike vid Other Side before, and here she and I were using many of the same clips, a real strong focus on S7, and... I just sat there amazed at the unusual techniques that added such depth to the story. I look at mine, and it just sits there in a sticky sweet limbo of slowness. I would probably never conceptualize such use of techniques the way Lum has. I'm just low-level storytelling, and I'm not sure these days that's enough when there are such wonderful visual capabilities to add to a story as well. I used to think that maybe those of us who transitioned from VCRs to computers would never see those possibilities as well as the folks who started vidding only on computers, but so many of the folks blowing me away -- Kathy, Jill, Lynn, Kay, Morgan especially -- started that way, so clearly it's not just computer familiarity.

I think I'm also feeling very amateurish and pedestrian because writing is leaving me in a weird place, as well, at least, fannish writing. Over on the Better Buffy Fic list they're making re-recs of older recs, in order to add to the archive. And I had to stop reading it because it reminded me too much of that feeling of "what am I doing wrong?" that I get consumed with from time to time in fandom. There's a currency in fanfic that you don't have in real life, one based on feedback and recs and links and the like. When you don't get much of that currency, you find yourself wondering what's missing about your stuff. (I suppose, though, at least I don't have to worry about ever hitting that three-story limit per author on BBF!) Or at least, people like me place blame on themselves; I know there are other folks out that who think the readers are idiots if their fics aren't being rec'd, or something. I had a great conversation with lordshiva the other day about writing, and we talked about that feeling -- of wondering, well, I'm putting all this effort and really trying to craft a great story, and I'm churning out all this stuff... but it doesn't blip on the fan radar much at all, so does that mean I'm doing something wrong? Or is it just the zeitgeist doesn't encompass my stuff? I mentioned to her that I realized a long time ago that I'm a basic A to B storyteller, and sometimes that's just not enough to get through the crowded arenas of fanfic, I think. It's hard to know the answer; but between the vidding and the writing, it gives me that flop sweat panic anxiety.

I know I'm not alone in these feelings. Talking with a friend by email this weekend, she pointed out that many of the people whose vids I was so in awe of have been saying the same things -- when they compare themselves to others, they feel they come up wanting. So perhaps it's the nature of the creative person to expend great amounts of anguish on these topics. And I think that many of us who've found an accepting community in fandom also get a cognitive dissonance when we see that no matter how much effort we might put into something, it may never be well-regarded or it might get lost in the stampede to someone else's work. It's hard to know if the effort will be acknowledged -- we like to create, obviously, or we wouldn't be doing it, but we don't know if the end result will be reward and acceptance, or dismissal. So the goal is a little fuzzier too -- I can send out stories to publishers in the real world in hopes of being published, but in fandom, there's no clear goal like that to shoot for. I create because I just love to do this, but sometimes, I'm brought up short when I wonder if the energy it takes is worth it.

I started wrtiing this Miami Vice slash piece as a way to see if I could work on two vastly different stories at the same time. And while I've been editing it, I'm just boggled by how unbelievably bad it is. Every bad cliche of slash, stupid dialog, you name it. I've forgotten how, I think. And I'll try really hard to get it into shape (I actually couldn't even write the sex scene, so I just inserted "la la la sex scene" in hopes I could fill in later, but I can't!) and maybe continue my tradition of posting a story on my birthday, but it feels just like that vid anxiety -- at best plodding, amateurish, workmanlike. Something that could be written by any dork anywhere. Nothing special, nothing unique. My friend reminded me this morning that it's pointless to compare yourself to others, because you can only do things the way you do them. Creative people are often consumed by the idea of greener grass on the other side: we read someone else's fic and would kill to write that way, or see a vid and feel despair that we can never make a vid like that. Creative people tend to compare and feel they come up wanting. And I wonder why that is? There's a few healthy egos I've met in fandom, but not a lot. Is part of the nature of the creator, the artist -- to strive and experiment and grow and find new ways of seeing -- to beat themselves up over not being what they admire in others?

I'm inspired when I read really good writing. It never makes me want to throw my hands up, but to create something equally good. It's only the aftermath, when things disappear in a void or seem less than successful, that I throw up my hands. Yet the really good vids made me want to throw up my hands in submission, knowing I'll never be able to attain that level of quality. It's really strange to experience that, and makes me wonder why we do this to ourselves. Intellectually I know it's wrong, but on an emotinal level, the feeling still sits there -- the "why bother" devil on my shoulder.

I know some of this is influenced by my bad work situation, too, and that next weekend, when I get the chance to meet some other fans around the area, it'll probably be better; I'm always better around other people. And that it's a strange convergence-- the discs, a rec fest, this wretchedly written story staring me in the face, bad personal life juju -- that's driving me to the depresso navel gazing. So I'm hoping it'll go away soon. As well, Evil Twin is coming up for the holiday and the birthday, which is always nice since we rarely get to spend our birthday together. Maybe by then I'll be back to thinking I can do anything. ;-)

ETA -- I disabled comments because I didn't want y'all to think I needed to be told I was great. This is purely self indulgent, self absorbed whining.