Once upon a time, there was a woman. She utterly adored writing; fanfiction, when she discovered it, swiftly became an obsession. She would write and write and write, and post when she was able (although that wasn't often). And then something wonderful happened -- reviewers and reviewing in general. She left glowing reviews for her favorite authors and politely kept silent when she found a flaw.

Then one day, while trekking through a particularly dangerous fandom, she stumbled upon a temple; a powerful story. She entered, and was entertained. There she met the priestess of the temple, who was known throughout the fandom as kind and gracious. The woman worshiped at her feet. Yet, as time passed, and the woman saw more and more of the priestess's stories, she began to feel discontent. More and more it seemed the stories were only unrealistic romantic daydreams, and the threat of a Marty Stu and Mary Sue invasion became more likely every day.

The woman felt compelled to inform the priestess of these plagues, but did not know if the priestess would accept her critique. The only reviews the priestess left were glowing and kind, and the woman had never seen the priestess receive such a thing as criticism. What if the priestess and her faithful worshipers took offense and scorned her? Not wanting to offend the blessed writer, the woman kept her doubts silent.

Over time, the woman began to realize that despite -- and perhaps because of -- the fact the priestess was blessed, she deserved honesty. Still, she treaded lightly around the priestess and the other worshipers, until from one of the priestess's creations arose the foul stench of a cliched, badly executed twist that the woman could not ignore. Determined, yet not wanting anyone to bear a grudge against her, the woman donned a disguise and attacked the twisted creation.

Safe in her lovely anonymity, she realized that being an angry critic could sometimes be beneficial, that creations might be torn apart and then be sewn back together more perfectly.

-+(AL)+-

--oOo--

Drowned Hopes regrets to inform that she is... gone.

Departed from this fair land forever, as she journeys to a higher place. More specifically, somewhere she can post original fiction.

You see, dear reader, she first came to this fanfiction kingdom seeking the skills to become a better writer. For many months she wrote of the Inheritance cycle, enjoying fanfiction.net to its fullest. Yet, one day a wise man came to her and said, "Go, child, and write original fiction. Only them shall you learn the skills you need if you wish to become a Published Writer."

And, oh, those magical words -- a real, true, Published Writer! Thus, this sixteen-year-old girl looked down upon her unfinished fanfiction stories and wept, realizing they would forever lie half-written. But it was necessary. So the intelligent, beautiful, talented (not to mention modest) Drowned Hopes departed. You may find her at Fiction Central dot net in a few months, when she finally manages to pull something readable together and post it.

Love and Apologies,

-- Drowned Hopes, also known as Anonymous Lovely.

P.S.: yes, AL and DH are both me. I took a few steps to make sure it wasn't obvious, like pretending to be new, but frankly I'm sick of acting like I'm two different people. I am a sarcastic, lovable, humorous, cruel person, and there's no goddamned reason I should have to use just my nice side on this account and my mean side on my Anonymous Lovely account. I'm irritated with myself for even starting it in the first place!

However, I do apologize to anyone I might have offended with any reviews I left with my Anonymous Lovely account. Especially you, SK, if you even remember it. I meant every word, but I shouldn't have hidden behind a second account to say it. You're a great writer, and you've got a lot of potential get a lot better, but you're in a fuckin' rut with the same-plot-different-story thing. You could be brilliant if you'd expand yourself a bit. I hope you read this.

If you're not SK and you read this, have the decency to feel embarrassed, eavesdropper. The nerve of you.

As proof I'm AL: this message is posted under that account's profile as well.