fanfiction

On Fanfiction

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strikingthirteen:

roachpatrol:

valnon:

shadesofmauve:

I was cruising through the net, following the cold trail of one of the periodic “Is or is not Fanfic the Ultimate Literary Evil?” arguments that crop up regularly, and I’m now bursting to make a point that I never see made by fic defenders.

We’re all familiar with the normal defenses of fic: it’s done out of love, it’s training, it’s for fun. Those are all good and valid defenses!

But they miss something. They damn with faint praise. Because the thing is, when you commit this particular Ultimate Literary Evil you’ve now told a story. And stories are powerful. The fact that it wasn’t in an original world or with original characters doesn’t necessarily make it less powerful to any given reader.

I would never have made this argument a few years ago. A few years ago I hadn’t received messages from people who were deeply touched by something I wrote in fanfic. So what if it’s only two or three or four people, and I used someone else’s world and characters? For those two or three or four people, I wrote something fucking important. You cannot tell me that isn’t a valid use of my time and expect me to feel chastened. I don’t buy it. I won’t feel ashamed. I will laugh when you call something that touches other people ‘literary masturbation.’ Apparently you’re not too up on your sex terminology.

Someone could argue that if I’d managed the same thing with original characters in an original world, it could’ve touched more people. They might be right! On the other hand, it might never have been accepted for publication, or found a market if self published, and more importantly I would never have written it because I didn’t realize I could write. The story wouldn’t have happened. Instead, thanks to fanfic being a thing, it did. And for two or three or four people it mattered. When we talk about defending fanfic, can we occasionally talk about that?

I once had an active serviceman who told me that my FF7 and FF8 fic helped get him through the war. That’ll humble you. People have told me my fanfic helped get them through long nights, through grief, through hard times. It was a solace to people who needed solace. And because it was fanfic, it was easier to reach the people who needed it. They knew those people already. That world was dear to them already. They were being comforted by friends, not strangers.

Stories are like swords. Even if you’ve borrowed the sword, even if you didn’t forge it yourself from ore and fire, it’s still your body and your skill that makes use of it. It can still draw blood, it can strike down things that attack you, it can still defend something you hold dear. Don’t get me wrong, a sword you’ve made yourself is powerful. You know it down to its very molecules, are intimate with its heft and its reach. It is part of your own arm. But that can make you hesitate to use it sometimes, if you’re afraid that swinging it too recklessly will notch the blade. Is it strong enough, you think. Will it stand this? I worked so hard to make it. A blade you snatched up because you needed a weapon in your hand is not prey to such fears. You will use it to beat against your foes until it either saves you or it shatters.

But whether you made that sword yourself or picked it up from someone who fell on the field, the fight you fight with it is always yours.

Literary critics who sneer at fanfic are so infuriatingly shortsighted, because they all totally ignore how their precious literature, as in individual stories that are created, disseminated, and protected as commercial products, are a totally modern industrial capitalist thing and honestly not how humans have ever done it before like a couple centuries ago. Plus like, who benefits most from literature? Same dudes who benefit most from capitalism: the people in power, the people with privilege. There’s a reason literary canon is composed of fucking white straight dudes who write about white straight dudes fucking. 

Fanfiction is a modern expression of the oral tradition—for the rest of us, by the rest of us, about the rest of us—and I think that’s fucking wonderful and speaks to a need that absolutely isn’t being met by the publishing industry. The need to come together as a close community, I think, and take the characters of our mythology and tell them getting drunk and married and tricked and left behind and sent to war and comforted and found again and learning the lessons that every generation learns over and over. It’s wonderful. I love it. I’m always going to love it. 

I had someone message me once on AO3 tell me that one of my fics helped them choose their preferred name. It was a Sherlock fanfic and had no original characters in it but I am overjoyed that something I wrote meant that much to someone. Fanfiction is never a waste of time

On Fanfiction

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roachpatrol:

valnon:

shadesofmauve:

I was cruising through the net, following the cold trail of one of the periodic “Is or is not Fanfic the Ultimate Literary Evil?” arguments that crop up regularly, and I’m now bursting to make a point that I never see made by fic defenders.

We’re all familiar with the normal defenses of fic: it’s done out of love, it’s training, it’s for fun. Those are all good and valid defenses!

But they miss something. They damn with faint praise. Because the thing is, when you commit this particular Ultimate Literary Evil you’ve now told a story. And stories are powerful. The fact that it wasn’t in an original world or with original characters doesn’t necessarily make it less powerful to any given reader.

I would never have made this argument a few years ago. A few years ago I hadn’t received messages from people who were deeply touched by something I wrote in fanfic. So what if it’s only two or three or four people, and I used someone else’s world and characters? For those two or three or four people, I wrote something fucking important. You cannot tell me that isn’t a valid use of my time and expect me to feel chastened. I don’t buy it. I won’t feel ashamed. I will laugh when you call something that touches other people ‘literary masturbation.’ Apparently you’re not too up on your sex terminology.

Someone could argue that if I’d managed the same thing with original characters in an original world, it could’ve touched more people. They might be right! On the other hand, it might never have been accepted for publication, or found a market if self published, and more importantly I would never have written it because I didn’t realize I could write. The story wouldn’t have happened. Instead, thanks to fanfic being a thing, it did. And for two or three or four people it mattered. When we talk about defending fanfic, can we occasionally talk about that?

I once had an active serviceman who told me that my FF7 and FF8 fic helped get him through the war. That’ll humble you. People have told me my fanfic helped get them through long nights, through grief, through hard times. It was a solace to people who needed solace. And because it was fanfic, it was easier to reach the people who needed it. They knew those people already. That world was dear to them already. They were being comforted by friends, not strangers.

Stories are like swords. Even if you’ve borrowed the sword, even if you didn’t forge it yourself from ore and fire, it’s still your body and your skill that makes use of it. It can still draw blood, it can strike down things that attack you, it can still defend something you hold dear. Don’t get me wrong, a sword you’ve made yourself is powerful. You know it down to its very molecules, are intimate with its heft and its reach. It is part of your own arm. But that can make you hesitate to use it sometimes, if you’re afraid that swinging it too recklessly will notch the blade. Is it strong enough, you think. Will it stand this? I worked so hard to make it. A blade you snatched up because you needed a weapon in your hand is not prey to such fears. You will use it to beat against your foes until it either saves you or it shatters.

But whether you made that sword yourself or picked it up from someone who fell on the field, the fight you fight with it is always yours.

Literary critics who sneer at fanfic are so infuriatingly shortsighted, because they all totally ignore how their precious literature, as in individual stories that are created, disseminated, and protected as commercial products, are a totally modern industrial capitalist thing and honestly not how humans have ever done it before like a couple centuries ago. Plus like, who benefits most from literature? Same dudes who benefit most from capitalism: the people in power, the people with privilege. There’s a reason literary canon is composed of fucking white straight dudes who write about white straight dudes fucking. 

Fanfiction is a modern expression of the oral tradition—for the rest of us, by the rest of us, about the rest of us—and I think that’s fucking wonderful and speaks to a need that absolutely isn’t being met by the publishing industry. The need to come together as a close community, I think, and take the characters of our mythology and tell them getting drunk and married and tricked and left behind and sent to war and comforted and found again and learning the lessons that every generation learns over and over. It’s wonderful. I love it. I’m always going to love it. 

The Importance of Mary Sue

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savannahhorrocks:

geekmehard:

unwinona:

When I was in Ninth Grade, I won a thing.  

That thing, in particular, was a thirty dollar Barnes & Noble gift certificate.  I was still too young for a part-time job, so I didn’t have this kind of spending cash on me, ever.  I felt like a god.

Drunk with power, I fancy-stepped my way to my local B&N.  I was ready to choose new books based solely on the most important of qualities…BADASS COVER ART.  I walked away with a handful of paperbacks, most of which were horrible (I’m looking at you, Man-Kzin Wars III) or simply forgettable.  

One book did not disappoint.  I fell down the rabbit hole into a series that proved to be as badass as the cover art promised (Again, Man-Kzin Wars III, way to drop the ball on that one).  With more than a dozen books in the series, I devoured them.  I bought cassette tapes of ballads sung by bards in the stories.  And the characters.  Oh, the characters.  I loved them.  Gryphons, mages, but most importantly, lots of women.  Different kinds of women.  So many amazing women.  I looked up to them, wrote bad fiction that lifted entire portions of dialogue and character descriptions, dreamed of writing something that the author would include in an anthology.

This year I decided in a fit of nostalgia to revisit the books I loved so damn much.  I wanted to reconnect with my old friends…

…and I found myself facing Mary Sues.  Lots of them.  Perfect, perfect, perfect.  A fantasy world full of Anakin Skywalkers and Nancy Drews and Wesley Crushers.  I felt crushed.  I had remembered such complex, deep characters and didn’t see those women in front of me at all anymore.  Where were those strong women who kept me safe through the worst four years of my life?

Which led me to an important realization as I soldiered on through book after book.  That’s why I needed them.  Because they were Mary Sues.  These books were not written to draw my attention to all the ugly bumps and whiskers of the real world.  They were somewhere to hide.  I was painfully aware that I was being judged by my peers and adults and found lacking.  I was a fuckup.  And sometimes a fuckup needs to feel like a Mary Sue.  As an adult, these characters felt a little thin because they lacked the real world knowledge I, as an adult, had learned and earned.  But that’s the thing…these books weren’t FOR this current version of myself.   Who I am now doesn’t need a flawless hero because I’m comfortable with the idea that valuable people are also flawed.

There is a reason that most fanfiction authors, specifically girls, start with a Mary Sue.  It’s because girls are taught that they are never enough.  You can’t be too loud, too quiet, too smart, too stupid.  You can’t ask too many questions or know too many answers.  No one is flocking to you for advice.  Then something wonderful happens.  The girl who was told she’s stupid finds out that she can be a better wizard than Albus Dumbledore.  And that is something very important.  Terrible at sports?  You’re a warrior who does backflips and Legolas thinks you’re THE BEST.   No friends?  You get a standing ovation from Han Solo and the entire Rebel Alliance when you crash-land safely on Hoth after blowing up the Super Double Death Star.  It’s all about you.  Everyone in your favorite universe is TOTALLY ALL ABOUT YOU.

I started writing fanfiction the way most girls did, by re-inventing themselves.  

Mary Sues exist because children who are told they’re nothing want to be everything.  

As a girl, being “selfish” was the worst thing you could be.  Now you live in Narnia and Prince Caspian just proposed marriage to you.  Why?  Your SELF is what saved everyone from that sea serpent.  Plus your hair looks totally great braided like that.

In time, hopefully, these hardworking fanfiction authors realize that it’s okay to be somewhere in the middle and their characters adjust to respond to that.  As people grow and learn, characters grow and learn.  Turns out your Elven Mage is more interesting if he isn’t also the best swordsman in the kingdom.  Not everyone needs to be hopelessly in love with your Queen for her to be a great ruler.  There are all kinds of ways for people to start owning who they are, and embracing the things that make them so beautifully weird and complicated.

Personally, though, I think it’s a lot more fun learning how to trust yourself and others if you all happen to be riding dragons.

Mary Sues exist because children who are told they’re nothing want to be everything.

A girl making herself the hero of her own story is a radical act. Stop shaming girls for doing it. Stop shaming yourself for it. 

I have so much I want to say about this/add my own experiences and thoughts but can’t right now but am so so so so so glad to see this being discussed because it’s so important and people will so flippantly make fun of and dismiss anything perceived as a Mary Sue and stuff like this is exactly why I hate that.

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nottonyharrison:

If anyone ever tells you that fanworks are a waste of time, just remember you can purchase Pride and Prejudice murder mystery AU fanfiction ‘Death Comes to Pemberley’ written by celebrated author PD James, and distributed my Macmillan.

PD James also wrote Children of Men. One of the greatest books of ever.

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Remember I said I’d write this? I wrote this! It’s also available on AO3.

Amy

When Amy Pond was nine years old, her art teacher presented a replica of Vase With 12 Sunflowers to the class, and asked every child to describe how it made them feel.

“Happy,” said most of the pupils, associating sunflowers with summer and sunshine and childhood.

“Sad,” said Mels.

Amy thought about it harder than anyone. “Proud,” she finally said.

“Why?” asked the teacher.

“I don’t know,” said Amy.

“Well,” the teacher said, smiling indulgently, “that’s not much good to anyone, then, is it?”

“Her name is on it,” Rory spoke up.

“Well spotted, Rory,” said the teacher. “But the Amy whose name is on here is a different Amy, who died a long time ago. She must have been a friend of Vincent’s.”

*

When Amy Pond was fourteen years old, she attended a talk at the local art museum. The subject was Van Gogh, his paintings and life.

Amy had not thought to dress up. Everyone else was in sensible clothes, suits, dresses. She was wearing a miniskirt. All eyes turned to her as she walked down through the rows of seats. Some of the glances were merely curious. Some were not.

The last available seat in the room was next to a middle-aged man who looked Amy up and down with obvious interest. Amy glared at him, did not adjust her skirt, and listened to the talk quietly and determinedly.

At the end, the discussion between the panelists turned to the mysterious inscription on Vase With 12 Sunflowers, and the woman’s name written there with love.

“It’s very likely that this Amy was a prostitute,” said one of the men.

*

When Amy Pond was nineteen years old, she and Mels went to Paris for a short holiday. After two days’ worth of Disneyland, Amy insisted on visiting the Louvre.

“You’re so boring,” Mels chided. “Just like an old lady.” But she came too.

When they got to the main gallery, it was packed with tourists and schoolchildren. All Amy could see was people’s backs, rather than the paintings she had come to get closer to. Mels elbowed a few people aside so that she could get a better view, but Amy realised she couldn’t be bothered. She felt incredibly disappointed, like she had suddenly been denied access to something belonging to her.

A young tour guide was giving a talk to a group of tourists, and she had reached Vase With 12 Sunflowers.

“People often ask who Amy was and the truth is we don’t really know,” the guide said. “But I like to think of her as a sort of…unattainable object for Van Gogh.”

“This is boring,” Amy said to Mels. “Let’s go.”

“Amy was his muse, his ideal of womanhood, perhaps…”

*

When Amy Pond was twenty-one years old, she went poking about in the TARDIS library.

“Amy,” said the Doctor, “I can’t help noticing you’re digging out all my books on Vincent Van Gogh. And some of those are from the thirtieth century, so do be careful with them.”

“I just want to look.”

“You want to look to see if you could have saved him,” the Doctor said gently, but (Amy thought) a little patronizingly.

“No,” said Amy.

“It’s understandable. You’ve suffered a lot of loss recently,” the Doctor said, before seemingly catching himself and saying, “Let’s go have some fun, eh, Amy?”

But Amy suddenly smacked the book she was reading with her fist, and stared at him with tears in her eyes. The Doctor hurried over to her, and as Amy tightened her fingers on his wrist they both stared at the text on the bottom of the page.

It is unlikely that “Amy” ever existed at all…she was most likely an imaginary figure concocted by Van Gogh to deal with his splintering reality...

*

When Amy Pond was twenty-three years old, she and her husband and her daughter and her Doctor visited the Great Galactic Art Gallery, which held fine paintings and artworks from every corner of the universe.

“Doctor,” she called to him with a slight gasp in her voice. He was giggling at a sculpture with River. “Doctor. Vincent is here.”

The Doctor came over and observed Vase With 12 Sunflowers, even brushing it with his fingertips a little. “See,” he said. “I told him.”

But even as he turned away Amy found that she couldn’t. She pressed the little red button by the side of the painting, and a speaker into which visitors could ask questions popped up. “What would you like to know?” asked a robotic voice.

“Who is Amy?” asked Amy.

“Historians do not know,” said the voice, “but they believe she must have been a woman loved by van Gogh.”

*

When Amy Pond was thirty-seven years old, she bought a framed copy of Vase With 12 Sunflowers and hung it up in the New York apartment. When the sun set, the light hit it just right.

“That’s pretty,” Rory said to her. “You always loved van Gogh, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Amy said, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “Even met him once.”

Rory was eating a sandwich as he glanced at the painting, and Amy watched was amusement as his chewing suddenly slowed.

“Oh my god,” he said, after swallowing his food. “I remember we talked about it in school once. Vincent’s friend Amy. That’s you, isn’t it? You’re Amy!”

“Yes,” Amy said proudly. “I am.”

A Summary of Events (1/3)

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Title: A Summary of Events
Rating: PG13 I think
Fandom: Thunderbirds/Thunderbirds Are Go
Warnings: People being jerks about mental illnesses. People being jerks about political/equality issues. Looots of people being jerks. Er, swearing?
Notes: This is my favourite kind of fanfic to write – the mixed-media. It’ll probably run for two or three parts, and the title will make sense later is now a much better title. All names in this that you don’t recognise were grabbed from random writers/directors of the original series. Sorry to those who got their names given to complete arseholes.

Anyway! This is best described as ‘a look at how IR might function in the real world’ except obviously it’s not quite the real world because it’s several decades in the future and also after a war. I also hope it’s not Dark And Gritty, but rather Pointed And Vaguely Satirical.

 

*

From the Global News Web:

Amid growing fears re: sustainability and the protection of borders, the Global Defense Force is holding a televised, livestreamed hearing about the recent activities of International Rescue. Viewers can tune in on IBC, ITV, Sky, and Fox News to participate in the hearing.

As per standard policy, names of the GDF councilpeople shall not be given and faces shall be obscured via hologram in the courtroom. Colonel Francesca Casey shall not be attending any proceedings, as she has voiced her displeasure at this turn of events and has been placed on indefinite leave…

*

(more…)

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I adore the way fan fiction writers engage with and critique source texts, by manipulating them and breaking their rules. Some of it is straight-up homage, but a lot of [fan fiction] is really aggressive towards the source text. One tends to think of it as written by total fanboys and fangirls as a kind of worshipful act, but a lot of times you’ll read these stories and it’ll be like ‘What if Star Trek had an openly gay character on the bridge?’ And of course the point is that they don’t, and they wouldn’t, because they don’t have the balls, or they are beholden to their advertisers, or whatever. There’s a powerful critique, almost punk-like anger, being expressed there—which I find fascinating and interesting and cool.

Lev Grossman 
(via mysharona1987)

Why do straight, white, cis guys tend not to write fanfic? Because they don’t need to.

(via rendezvouswithenterprise)

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Hey, it’s Age of Ultron fic! Featuring the most minor of minor characters, naturally. And spoiler-tagged to heck.

*

My Hero, By Lila Barton

We are not allowed to write this essay about a family member and I think that is stupid because my dad is an actual hero and my mom looks after me and my brother and my baby brother which I think is good. [Lila, it is not nice to call anything stupid – Mrs A] Anyway I decided to write this essay about my aunt. She is not my real aunt, although I have a real aunt who lives in Canada, she is my dads best friend. She is also my moms best friend. When Mom thought her baby was going to be a girl she was going to name it Natasha but it turned out to be a boy so she called it Nathaniel. I like my new brother a lot but he doesn’t do much. Mr Rogers (not that Mr Rogers) came with Auntie Natasha and gave him a bunch of toys and I thought that was silly because he won’t play with them. When I said that Mom told me to show some respect but Mr Rogers just laughed and said I had a healthy attytude [attitude – Mrs A] to grown ups and that was nice.

Auntie Nat brings people to the farm a lot to talk with Mom and Dad. Sometimes she brings Mr Wilson and he is my favorite because he always has sweets and he plays video games with me and Cooper and I think he lets us win which is good because Cooper gets mad when he loses. Anyway one time Auntie Nat came she had another lady with her, who had brown hair and a red jacket, I didn’t know who she was but when she saw the baby she started crying and crying and crying and Mom and Dad and Auntie Nat were nice to her until she stopped crying and she had dinner with us and she left.

Mom says she is the sister of the man who died saving Dad. I forgot to mention that happened. Anyway that was sad but Auntie Nat was nice.

Another thing I remembered just now is when Jessica made fun of me for not having Dad at the father’s day show and we had that fight and Mom had to go to the principal’s office but she had to work and Dad was in England I think because of Thor so Auntie Nat went to see the principal and [this sentence is way too long, Lila – Mrs A] he was really scared of her and she told him Jessica was bullying me and everything was all right. Then she took me to get ice cream and she said that though getting back at people who hurt you feels good it‘s not good and she quoted lots of Star Wars at me and I laughed.

Also she was at the Battle of New York and saved a lot of people. [Maybe this should have been in your opening sentence – Mrs A] She has super abbilitys [abilities – Mrs A] and can kill monsters and robots. That is very good. Mommy says some bad things happened to Auntie Nat in her life and she is honest about them even to newspapers and I think that is good too because people should always tell the truth. But she is mostly my hero because she is nice to me and my brothers and lots of other people and she did not have to be because lots of people who have bad stuff happen are not nice. But she is. That is my essay. Signed Lila Nicole Barton aged 6

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myotherblogisatardis
replied to your post “Tumblr’s hate-on for first-person fanfic never fails to sadden me”

Is this a thing? First person’s hard to do well, but really? Hate? Some people just need to hate things, don’t they?

I see thousand-note posts saying stuff like ‘if I open a fanfic and see it’s in the first person I’m instantly going to close it, I don’t care how how good it is’

The people making them then go back to The Hunger Games, Sherlock Holmes, Percy Jackson, John Green’s stuff, Divergent and all the other popular first-person book fandoms, which is the part that puzzles me most

I’m done explaining why fanfic is okay.

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bemusedlybespectacled:

bookshop:

beautifuluniversemasterchump:

bookshop:

Yes, because all fan-fic is well written, and all JohnLock is as good as anything that’s won the Pulitzer Prize. The main problem with fan-fic isn’t the material, it’s the fact that it’s written by fucking idiots who just want the main characters to fuck. If it’s neither of those things, and is well-written, then it’ll probably be good. It’s as simple as that. Get off your high-horse, you total fucking asshole.

Hi, Jack. Can I call you Jack?

It’s fanfic. Not fan-fiction, not fan fiction, not “fanfiction” in quotes. Fanfiction, fanfic, or just fic. That’s what we call it. That’s what it is.

The argument that all fanfiction is Pulitzer-worthy is not an argument that appears anywhere in this essay. What does appear is a list of Pulitzer-winning, acclaimed, and beloved works that can best be described as doing exactly what fanfiction does. The reason we’re listing them out here is because many people think that fanfiction is plagiarism, theft, illegal infringement, or to quote one person’s words to me directly, “the devil’s work.”

But I’m so glad that you don’t think fanfic suffers from any of those problems because clearly they were just distracting me from the real issue. Thank you so much for explaining to me that all fanfiction is written by fucking idiots who just want the main characters to fuck.

But for your well-positioned advice, I might have assumed that the Sacrifices arc by Lightning on the Waves, who has spent nearly a decade rewriting the entire Harry Potter series in order to completely deconstruct and critique the class, race, and social structures that JK Rowling built, was something worth talking about.

I mean, it’s one of the longest works of fiction ever written; it’s longer than Proust. It’s got hundreds of original characters on top of the giant cast of Harry Potter, and but for your timely arrival I might have thought it was a painstaking reworking of plot and a profound exploration of character.

The author’s stated purpose is, “I’ve tried to take several clichés (among them Harry being Sorted into Slytherin and having a twin brother who is deemed to be the Boy-Who-Lived) and write a story that’s both good and has rounded characterization.”  But I guess the author was lying and she really just wanted to see Harry fuck someone, and all those three million words were just about fucking. I mean, after all, you said so.

But, thank god, you got here just in time to tell me this was just a shitty piece of dreck by an author who wants two characters to bone.

Or this House of Leaves/Inception crossover. It has anagrams, puzzles, hovertext, careful page formatting in the style of Danielewski, reversed text, and an intricate layering of two universes over one another in ways that amplify and transform both. But I guess it’s just trashy porn and not a clever example of literary remix culture, right, because—

—I mean, you’re so sure and I’m sure you’ve carefully examined the opinions of hundreds, if not thousands, of other people who agree with you on this subject—whereas I’m just a woman and a fucking idiot and an asshole, that’s what you said, yeah?, who actually reads this detritus.

Read More

Can I just tag on one very small thing to this excellent post?

Sex. Isn’t. Bad. Porn isn’t bad. Erotica isn’t bad. Shipping is not the end of the fucking world.

You want to complain about how fanfic is all about relationships? Complain to literally almost every example of media ever.

Television shows? Almost certainly a love interest.

Books? Movies? Same fucking deal.

Just because these characters aren’t together in canon, or someone writes a sex scene, or they’re two men or two women, or you don’t interpret their relationship that way, does not make shipping or shipping fics bad. It does not make erotic fics bad.

Because – surprise, surprise! – there are well-written shipping fics. Yes, there are terrible ones, just as there are badly-written romance novels and shitty romantic arcs on TV and completely half-assed love interests in books.

But a fic that contains relationships or fucking does not automatically make it bad, unless you want to start calling out literally all forms of media for having the main characters fuck.

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