Penélope y las labores inconclusas

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Hoy quiero hablar de un vicio mío como escritora: el documento interminable. Esa historia sin pretensiones que sale de una idea simple, para la que no hago un esquema, y que tengo a medias durante meses para trabajar en ella cuando quiero escribir sin devanarme los sesos. Supongo que no soy la única escritora que lo hace.

El caso es que ahora estoy terminando un fic (una historia basada en otra ya existente, que en este caso también es mía), formato que suelo usar para estas cosas. Llevo casi un año con él, me ha dado muy buenos momentos y estoy muy orgullosa de lo que lo que he conseguido. Y además,no quería terminarlo por nada del mundo. Y ahí es donde entra Penélope.

Penélope es un personaje de la Odisea, el famoso libro de Homero, que estaba casa con Ulises. Como sabréis, y si no lo sabéis os lo cuento yo, Ulises se pasó un montón de años de viaje para volver de la guerra de Troya, que de eso va el libro*, y Penélope se quedó en Ítaca esperándolo como una fiel esposa. Tan fiel era que rechazó los favores de los muchos pretendientes que llegaban a su puerta. Pero como ya se sabe que a los hombres no hay quien los haga desistir cuando se ponen pesados, Penélope se inventó una excusa ya mítica: solo aceptaría volver a casarse cuando terminase de tejer un sudario para el rey Laertes, para quien trabajaba. Pero ¿cómo se las arregló para no terminarlo en los veinte años que tardó Ulises en llegar a casa? Pues bien, Penélope deshacía por las noches todo lo que había tejido el día anterior, de manera que su labor era literalmente infinita.

Y a mí me pasa un poco así. No borro todo lo que he escrito (aunque borrar es parte de escribir), pero sí es cierto que alargo los capítulos, y añado más capìtulos a mis historias con tal de no acabarlas, sobre todo si se trata de algo que a) me encanta escribir, b) no pienso publicar** c) me está ayudando a salir de una mala racha. Esa oportunidad de meterme en las historias y los personajes, de trasladarme a un lugar que sólo existe ahí y que no tiene normas, me evade y me da algo por lo que seguir peleando.

Hay algo adictivo en escribir, y si te das el lujo de olvidarte de las formas por un tiempo, y te reservas ese espacio para experimentar y mejorar, puedes sacarle mucho partido. Y dejar pasar el tiempo, veinte años si hace falta.

¿Y vosotros? ¿Hay alguna actividad o proyecto que os cueste terminar, por lo mucho que disfrutáis haciéndolo?

*    “La Odisea” va del viaje de Ulises (también llamado Odiseo) de vuelta a Ítaca; el libro que habla de la guerra de Troya es “La Ilíada”. Ambos tomos son muy ligeros y de fácil lectura.

* *   En realidad uno de los fics está publicado en Fanfiction.net xD

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Gas (TWD fanfic)

The air in the gas station was scorching and moist; it reeked of death, due to the two walkers trapped inside, tied by their ankles to the counter, close to the windows, so nobody would enter when they saw them.

They had been trapped by a girl, who was now sitting on the floor, dripping wet in sweat, playing with a revolver. She was skinny, her skin dry and gaunt, her blond hair frizzy, her eyes sad and aimless. She had been playing with the gun for days now; she was sure she was turning crazy, but couldn’t or didn’t want to do anything about it.

Lux was utterly tired of living, but for the first time she didn’t have the determination of killing herself. She was sure that loneliness, famine and inactivity would eventually end her without an effort. She didn’t know how long had she been on her own, but it had been definitely over a month. Maybe two. Her wounds were sure healing, both the outer and the inner, and she had grown up to be a survivor, with all the immoral acts it carried out.

There were people talking outside, but no distinct conversation. They were muttering and that only meant they wanted to break in.

“They want to break into my place. My place, my only shelter, where I’ve survived since I ran away from those monsters” she thought, stiff and curled up in a comforting position.

She wouldn’t let them.

Lux stood up and pulled out her knife, the one on her right leg. Her jeans had a double fabric to hide a couple of blades, long, thin and sharp, so no one could see them until it was too late. She was able to use them better than a tooth brush, and had used them a lot lately.

The door opened; she had not repaired the lock since a kid broke in the previous week. It was part of her master plan to die somehow.

She saw a woman from her sneaking point, behind a shelf stuffed with car supplies. Her skin was dark, umber indeed, and she was as tall as her, thin. She wore thick dreads. Her gaze was fierce, ruthless. It was weird for Lux because she had not seen a strong, healthy woman since everything began, or ended. She pulled out a long blade, maybe a katana, and severed the walker’s heads in two gracious moves.

She waited in the dark, and started moving in the opposite direction, around the shelf, to catch her by surprise. Both women wandered slowly and quiet until Lux was behind her, without noticing another stranger slipping inside the thick aired room.

A veces hago Fanfics

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-You know what? Fuck it all. We are going down swinging. – She picked a CD from the space between the front seats and chose one she had found, only female rockers in it. They listened to Janis Joplin, Hole, Alanis Morrissette, No Doubt, and Patty Smith. They played it three times in a row during the following four hours, but they didn’t want to sing along to it. Until Lux began to mumble “Because the night”. At first she was quiet, but then she started singing aloud, turned the volume up and opened the windows.

Come on now try and understand / the way I feel under your command / take my hand as the sun descends/

And in that moment, Megan followed her.
They can’t touch you now, / can’t touch you now, can’t touch you now / Because the night belongs to lovers/Because the night belongs to love/Because the night belongs to lovers/Because the night belongs to love

And finally Sue went along, from the bottom of her heart.
With love we sleep / with doubt the vicious circle / turn and burns / without you I cannot live
forgive, the yearning burning / I believe it’s time, too real to feel / so touch me now, touch me now, touch me now

-This is adult car here, please shut the fuck up or you will get us all eaten alive…-said Mike

Lux flipped the finger out of the window.
Because the night belongs to lovers/Because the night belongs to love/Because the night belongs to lovers/Because the night belongs to love

Lux wouldn’t remember it well, when she tried to recall it months later. She saw a huge, oxidized metal plate laying on the ground, before her, and rapidly thought of breaking the car at once, but then realized something.

-Hold on to yourselves! I can’t stop or the car behind will hit us!

The spikes blew off the tires and she lost control of the car, which started spinning. She tried to control it twisting the wheel in the same direction, as her brother told her once, but it didn’t work. After three rounds, they stopped. They couldn’t hear a noise.

-Are you good? -asked Sue

-I am. -said Megan.

-Let’s get out of here, I’m heading to the bushes. -said Lux.

-Why? -asked Sue.

-Because this is a spiderweb and we are the flies.

She left and heard the first shots. She hid into the bush and waited, breathing fast. There were screams and more shots, and she started feeling bad, because she must had waited for the others. But she was so scared she couldn’t think in those terms. She then thought she might be more useful if she wasn’t caught, but it seemed like a stupid excuse anyway.

-You are alone, bitch. You are alone again. -she unlocked her desert eagle and swallowed saliva.

The noises stopped and she waited. She only heard a walker moaning in the distance, and some branches creaking around.

She didn’t give in, and she didn’t know why. She waited until she heard a dog barking close to her, and then the first raindrops hit her face. And she got out from her hiding place, and she fought. She shot, and cut, and she got beaten, and cut, and bitten by a dog. A dog so big it looked like the ones on the horror books she read at home when she was fourteen. And then she got knocked out.

(Basado libremente en )