On the chopping block

(this came out of a conversation in the comments on a previous post about an author threatening to stop updating a fic because of lack of engagement)

So there’s this idea that fic writers should write for themselves and not care too much about stats or engagement,

and i totally get the sentiment behind that. if writing becomes entirely about stats and external validation, something important does get lost - creative freedom and joy, conviction in your own writing

but i also think:

“i write for myself, but i post for others.”

because posting fic is not only self-expression. it’s social. ao3 is called an archive, but emotionally it often functions as a community space.

people post for connection, for participation, for others to bear witness to their pain and trauma and grief,

and i don’t think most people are asking to be admired so much as acknowledged. there’s something deeply human about wanting another person to encounter something that mattered to you and go:

“ok, yeah, I see what you were trying to say. I see you.”

especially because fanfic is often people processing very real feelings through fictional characters at a safe distance, one step removed,

and then uploading that deeply personal thing into a shared archive and hoping somebody else might connect with it.

And i think that’s why it hurts so much when you summon up the courage and post a fic into the void and you get nothing back,

and then it’s like,

My orthodontist tells me I can make an appointment with the surgeon. I call the surgeon. They tell me I need a new referral. I call the orthodontist. They do a referral. I call the surgeon. Referral didn't come through. They tell me about their special unique system we have to use. I call the ortho again and walk them through the referral. I call the surgeon. They say the referral was missing some details so they have to do it again. I call the ortho.

The insurance company calls me about repair shops. I give them the name of the repair shop which I already gave them yesterday. They say they're not in their system but I can use them, but I have to call the repair shop to ask them to contact the insurance company. I call the repair shop and they say the insurance company is supposed to email them.

the people telling you that you're not "really" men/male are not invested in trans liberation, and they do not have your best interests at heart.

the world wants you to stay in "female" spaces, to only pursue medical care deemed "female," to identify with "female" assignment, and to interpret your place in social life as "female." that's what assignment enforcement looks like. you were assigned "female" and then that assignment is enforced everywhere constantly.

your body, decisions, and life is being measured against that assignment, and you are being punished for all the ways you fail or refuse to adhere to it. this is transphobia. every trans person experiences this, regardless of our gender, anatomy, presentation, or politics.

the idea that these structural barriers and interpersonal punishments you're facing is coming from reaction to masculinity specifically is a misdirection. if you believe your oppression is rooted in "anti-masculinity" then you are more likely to direct your anger towards transfeminists. this misdirection isolates you from those who would otherwise be in solidarity with you. it functions to redirect your energy away from trans liberation and towards patriarchal maintenance.

this is a very dangerous bait and switch. because while patriarchy benefits men as a class, it also oppresses trans people. so putting all your effort into maintaining patriarchy will further enshrine your own oppression as a trans person while always requiring any benefit you receive to come at the price of harming trans women. even if not directly harming an individual woman in an interpersonal context, you will be harming trans women as a class, meaning you will not even know how many actual women have harder lives due to your participation in their oppression.

it is a devil's bargain. if you choose it, other trans people will not be safe around you, and as they realize this, they will leave. eventually, there will be no one you can throw under the bus to dodge transphobic violence. you will not have anyone to stand with you. cis men who found your antifeminism useful will not protect you. cis women who found your bioessentialism useful will not protect you. you will be even more vulnerable than you are right now.

I urge you to actively and sincerely work at cultivating solidarity with trans women and transfeminized people more broadly. that means listening to them (even when you disagree), learning from them (not extracting pieces to leverage for your own needs, but allowing new ideas to challenge you and working through these challenges until you can integrate these ideas into your actual worldview), and yes sometimes making decisions that are to your own immediate disadvantage out of commitment to goals that are to the advantage of all trans people, including yourself, in the long term.

this is not a self-sacrificial thing (nor should it be--approaching "solidarity" as "sacrifice" builds resentment towards and distance from others instead of building intimacy and friendship). this is a commitment to build and maintain your capacity to think beyond the current moment and act collectively for common material goals.

Just wanted to bring to your attention that the term whump was actually coined by the Stargate fandom specifically to describe making this guy suffer. He is the original Mr. Whump (no that's not his actual name). That's how torturable this guy is.

Everyone say mean things about him.

Here is a non exhaustive list of what he goes through in canon btw:

His parents get crushed to death right in front of him when he is a kid

He is forced to relive the memory of his parents death countless times

He dies and gets resurrected

His wife gets possessed

He fails to save her and she dies in his arms

He dies and gets resurrected again

He gets infected by a virus that makes him act crazy and gets put in an insane asylum

He dies and gets resurrected again

His ex gets possessed

He is exposed to a lethal dose of radiation

He dies and ascends to a higher plane, then gets kicked out of the higher plane and his memory is wiped

He gets kidnapped by a princess

He gets kidnapped by a fish alien

He gets kidnapped and tortured by some terrorists

He gets kidnapped and tortured by another alien

He is driven to insanity by an alien device

He dies and gets resurrected again

She played bass on 10,000 songs, including the most-played track of the twentieth century. She was paid $55 per session. Her name never appeared on the albums.

Gold Star Studios, Los Angeles, 1964. A woman in a cardigan walks past the receptionist, a Fender Precision bass in her hand like a briefcase. She doesn’t sign autographs. She signs a timesheet.

Her name is Carol Kaye. In three hours, she will record what will become the most-played track of the twentieth century. She’ll pocket fifty-five dollars and head to another studio, on the other side of town, for the next session.

The record label will never put her name on the album.

Between 1957 and 1973, Carol Kaye took part in roughly 10,000 recording sessions. Not as the featured artist, not as a guest, but as a hired hand. She was part of an anonymous collective nicknamed The Wrecking Crew—elite studio musicians who actually played the instruments on your favorite records while the famous bands posed for promotional photos.

The work was relentless. Three albums before the day was over. Stale coffee in paper cups. No rehearsal. The charts arrived minutes before the tape rolled. If you couldn’t read a chart and nail the take in two tries, you didn’t get called for the next session.

Carol could do it on the first try.

She started playing guitar in grimy bars at fourteen because her family couldn’t pay the electric bill. Music wasn’t a romantic dream for her. It was survival. It was a job—factory work with better acoustics and lower pay.

But she was faster and sharper than almost everyone else. She corrected charts in pencil while the producer was still explaining what he wanted. In one session in 1968, she told a famous producer his arrangement sounded like a dying dog. She chose her own line. They kept her version.

That descending bass line that drives the Beach Boys’ “Wouldn’t It Be Nice”? Carol Kaye. The propulsive groove of “These Boots Are Made for Walkin’”? Carol Kaye. The acoustic-guitar intro to “La Bamba”? Carol Kaye. The iconic theme from Mission: Impossible? Carol Kaye.

She invented techniques on the spot, out of sheer necessity. When the bass sound was too muddy for AM radio, she stuck felt under the strings and used a hard pick instead of her fingers. The tone cut through the static like a blade. It became the sonic signature that defined 1960s pop.

Bassists spent years—decades—trying to crack the secret of the Beach Boys’ gear to get that sound. They were studying the wrong people. They should have been studying Carol.

She received no royalties. No residuals. No gold-record ceremony. No credit on the album sleeves. When “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’” hit number one, Carol was already back in a studio cutting a soap jingle.

The biggest bands mimed her bass lines on TV variety shows. New York marketing departments decided a mom in classic clothes didn’t fit the rebellious-youth image they were selling. So they simply left her name off the album credits.

For thirty years, almost no one cared. The truth only began to surface in the late 1990s, when music researchers found the same union contract numbers on thousands of hit records. The very documents meant to preserve studio musicians’ anonymity betrayed them.

Think about it. Every time you heard “Good Vibrations,” “River Deep – Mountain High,” the Righteous Brothers, Nancy Sinatra, or Sonny and Cher, you were hearing Carol Kaye. She composed the soundtrack of an entire generation’s youth.

And yet the records still say nothing. She’s now over eighty. She wrote instructional books. She trained countless bassists. She is finally starting to be recognized by music historians who uncovered the truth about The Wrecking Crew.

But she never got what she deserved: her name on those albums. Credit for the music that defined an era. Recognition that those bass lines everyone associates with the “Beach Boys” were, in fact, Carol Kaye’s.

Fifty-five dollars a session. Ten thousand sessions. The most-played track of the twentieth century.

#1. You should be able to lay down on the floor (face down or back) and be able to get up without your hands. If you can't? Spend a little bit every day just doing that, laying on the floor and getting up again no hands style, then laying down again (you'd be surprised how fast it wears you out after a few times)

#2. You should be able to get up out of a chair without using your hands or grabbing on to anything. Can't? Fucking start training mother fucker! Just a few uppies every day could save your damn life when you get older!

#3. You should be able to turn your neck to the side without twisting your upper body in the same direction, you should be able to turn your head freely without moving your shoulders, chest or torso! Start looking up loosy goosy neck exercises! It makes such a HUGE difference!

#4. You should be able to motherfucking stand on one foot and keep your balance for longer then 15 seconds. Haha sounds easy right? Thats what I thought when I tried after watching that vid, i was horrified to find how hard it was! I started doing "one leggy style" standing any chance I got, when I'm in line somewhere, when I'm watching a video... just do a few rounds of 10 seconds on each leg for like 5 min every day!

You get older and you think you still have all the same limberness as you did when you were 8, but whens the last fucking time you ran around and played like an 8 year old? You loose that flexibility so subtlety and then one day when you need it? BAM ITS GONE

The only notable difference with the things mentioned in the video is that I graduated college in spring of '08, so right into the start of the Great Recession, but less than a year later, I married a Xennial who has had a very successful career (and established before everything fell apart), so while I felt some of the financial stress of other Millennials, it wasn't as bad.

Yes, we dealt with job losses and financial losses, but because my husband already had post college graduation work experience in his field, he was more competitive in the job marked, so it wasn't as bad. Granted, we've crunched some numbers and realized that the promotions and raises haven't even really kept up with inflation. We were doing better (economically speaking) shortly after we got married, even though our combined household income is higher now. But that's an issue that impacts pretty much everyone, I think.