Fan Fiction: Am I Doing It Wrong?
Fan fiction is huge. No doubt about it. FanFiction.net has hundreds of thousands of people on it, with millions of words of stories based on the works of other people, crafted, (obviously) by fans of said work.
There are authors who turn a blind eye to it, and authors who get offended and lawsuit happy when they discover fan fiction based on their properties. Of course there is also fan fiction based on characters and settings that are not in the public domain, which usually means the author is now dead, and not likely to have anything to say about it.
Yet whatever author’s think about it, it’s going to happen. Basically forever.
I’ve had not read a lot of fan fiction. I’ve explored a few stories that take place in worlds that are familiar to me. I find several things that a lot of fan fiction has in common.
What I have read has been mostly, to be truthful, crap. It is clearly more fan than fiction. Written is what appears to be haste, or at least with little thought to much of anything other than the fact that the beloved characters of choice show up and so things. (Sometimes even the exact same sort of things they do in their source material.)
Story structure, layering or nuance doesn’t often make it’s way into fan fiction that I have read. Indeed most of it is too short to include all of that; fan fiction I find tends to be the length of short fiction or even micro-fiction more often than not. There are exceptions to every one of these observations of course.
The big reveal here? I’m writing a fan fiction myself, which I will probably post somewhere online under another name. I wanted to use it as an exercise in plot structure, first and foremost. It’s good for that.
The pre-existing characters were, as my mother said like “a pre-furnished apartment” I can live in for a few months. I don’t need to shop for my own characters or places, but can just use what is already there to work on that which I feel I could use some fine tuning. (Plot pacing.) Yet like I said, I don’t think most fan fiction authors are concerned with that. So thinking this much about it may be breaking a rule of fan fiction.
Yet the biggest rule of fan-fiction I’m breaking is probably this; I’m writing about a universe I enjoy, but am not in love with. I like the stories I have consumed from this world, but I am not in love with it. I wonder if it really counts as fan-fiction then.
I will say it’s not Star Trek: The Next Generation fan fiction. I say this because I never want to write such fiction. I consider myself too fond of the actual stories from that universe, that it would feel like painting the peacock. Most people who write fan fiction do so because they cannot contain their love for a show. I myself am letting the love of a show stand on its own for now.
So I am writing my fan fiction based on something I enjoy, but probably do not love.
As I do so, like I said, I’m struggling with plot perfectionism just as much as I do with my own fiction. I had thought that because there was a built-in set of characters and settings, I’d be able to just jump into a story, or that a fine story would just present itself. While the setting does lend itself automatically to a certain type of fiction, I haven’t found that fan-fiction writes itself anymore than other fiction does. At least it doesn’t for me.
I don’t mean to say I’m a better writer than most. I am constantly evolving and changing the way I write. But based on the stuff I have read, it seems to me most writers of fan fiction do so in order to get it out there. To experience an intimacy with characters the have followed. To feel like they are somehow a part of things. And perhaps a few of them do so because they want to be writers, but are not ready or are too lazy to come up with their own stuff.
Whatever the case may be, I wonder if I’m doing it wrong? Have I, by choosing a universe I merely like instead of love, and by obsessing over plot details and story structure and dialogue missed the point of fan fiction? Have I squeezed the element of unadulterated fun out of the genre? Or is fan fiction, like any fiction, what we make of it?
Writing Under Pressure
I need to get better at writing under pressure. And I don’t mean deadlines. Deadlines are a type of pressure, and I have been meeting deadlines as a writer for years. I’m proud of my record when it comes to that, in fact. The sort of pressure I mean is being able to write under less than ideal, or less than peaceful circumstances.
Only on a handful of rare occasions have I tried to write anything on my laptop in a coffee shop or a library. (Though these days, it seems coffee houses are more likely to be quiet. Seriously, whatever happened to library voices?) The times I did attempt this, I felt out of place, bogged down, and unable to focus, though I do find non-fiction easier to write outside of my routine than fiction though I don’t know why.
If I’m going to evolve as a writer beyond a certain point, I probably need to find a way to work when there’s noise, activity, and unfamiliar surroundings. (Or familiar surroundings that are not my home.) A good writer can write anywhere, right?
Okay, maybe not. Maybe I’ll never be able to compose an acceptable blog post, or the first draft of a good short story while sitting in the middle of Times Square. But if I can get to the point where there’s at least some tunnel vision to my writing task any given day, I can only benefit. A writer must write, and if I can limber up enough to write at least a little bit of something in the middle of slight chaos, I’ll be able to write more often. Like a track star who trains by running with weights on his ankles.
Plus, working at a cafe’ might occasionally open up my creativity in ways that sitting at my desk day in and day out cannot do. So I’ll probably make the effort to go to a cafe’ or the library once or twice in the near future, just to test and strengthen my ability to write somewhere else, with more noise than here at home.
And practice will be needed, believe me. I’m such a creature of writing habit, I’ve been using the same computer keyboard for about 13 years now. I’m somewhat used to my laptop because of how often I go to my sister’s house with it. And while her house is sometimes a bit chaotic, it’s nothing like a coffee house.
I’ll report on my progress in this endeavor as time goes on.
But know this…I’m still not going to drink coffee no matter where I end up writing.
What’s In An Age?
I know people who feel old because they passed a certain age. For some it was thirty, for many forty. For a sickening number of others, the age “getting old” thing started in their late twenties. Seriously. They finished college and suddenly a certain depression about “not being young anymore” or “being able to do what I used to do” sets in. As my friends I want to support them in their “trying” time. As a person, however, I sort of want to tell them to get a grip.
Though I do admit I see age differently. I don’t think much about it, to be honest. Not yet, anyway. I’m not in college any more. I’m not twenty-one anymore, but what does that mean? It may mean I have a bit less energy than I used to have. That in and of itself could possibly be rectified by diet or something, I don’t know. But that’s the biggest, direct and noticeable difference between me now, and me when I was twenty-one. The rest of what’s supposed to be different, (and hence depressing) now that I’m older isn’t hitting home to me.
One reason I think it’s not affecting me as much as other people may be the simple fact that I have no children and am unmarried. I guess kids make you feel older. But I know people who don’t have children, and yet still lament their “lost” youth.
The bigger part of it, though is perception. And I don’t mean the simple “you’re only as old as you feel” philosophy, though I do believe that to be true. By perception I mean that my overall spiritual presence in life is much the same now as it was when I was “young”. Yes, I have matured in the usual ways, and some of my passions have been somewhat tempered with time. Yet there is this seed of consciousness at the center of everything I do or do not do that simply hasn’t changed all that much, if at all. Opinions have changed in some areas, but my overall perception of my consciousness has been the same almost as long as I can remember.
To put it another way, one of two things is possible here. First, I have never been truly young. In fact I’ve been accused of thinking and acting like an old man going as far back as my teens. Probably one reason I was never invited to parties.
The other possibility is that I remain young even now, when most of my contemporaries have resigned to the fact that they are not young anymore. I’ve often been accused of enjoying activities, seeking experiences, befriending people, falling “in love” with women and responding to the stimuli of life in ways that I am “too old” for. I’ve been nearly shamed by it at times.
How exactly, can I be an old man in some situations, and a Peter Pan in others? Probably because the whole notion of what is old and young to the world is so out of tune with my own definitions of same that I don’t properly fit into any socially acceptable definition of proper age. I act too old in certain places, and too young in others. Not because I’m thumbing my nose at social norms, but because I follow my natural tendencies, and those tendencies are not the ways of society. (Don’t ask me why, as I think society ages people and depresses them more often than it liberates them, but lets that go.)
Once everyone in the room is an adult, I base my actions towards them solely on what I think of them as people. If I’m in a play with someone that’s twenty and I like them, I engage them as I would someone my age. Society generally teaches them to be wary of me, or to assume there is something wrong with me, of course, but if they don’t buy into that shit, I’m more than happy to be friends with someone that age. Just as I was often the one who ended up talking to those my age when I myself was twenty. I wasn’t young then and I am not old now. I just…exist.
I have teen friends, after all. I try to temper my language or subject matter around them more than I would fellow adults, at least until I get to know them. But basically, they are still friends of mine. Why? Because I like them. I like what they say, what they think, how they behave. My priorities may not be their priorities, but should that stop me from liking good people that are not the stereotypical teen? I didn’t even like the standard definition of teenager when I was a teenager myself.
I think this may be why I hate coming of age stories. They either set up “youth” to be a dismal prison from which one cannot hope to escape, or a time of perceived immortality filled with mind shattering moments of at last getting lucky with the girl of your dreams at the party you weren’t supposed to go to in the first place. That carefree heaven to which you cannot return once you take that depressing step towards being twenty-two. Time to hurry up and get married and make your parent grandparents, after all.
In my adult years, all of my lovers have also been legal, of course. But even within that context, I’ve had to listen to the “Half and Ten” formula. That being that I must take my age, divide it in half and add ten to it. The result is the age of the youngest woman I can be with and not be considered perverted. Guess what? I’m not a lothario by any means, but not all of my relationships have fit neatly into this bogus algorithm, and I get weary of being made to feel as though that makes me somehow out of my mind.
I regret not having done things in the past, yes. I am quite depressed sometimes about how little I have accomplished in my life. By definition some of those failures took place when I was younger. And I may have happened to have been in a better situation to make certain things happen in a previous time in my life than I would today. But even then, I’m not lamenting lost youth. I’m lamenting blown opportunities, (which by the way I am foolish enough to fall victim to at any age.)
So, I am to many people a freak because I pay so little attention to age. I am also a lonely person because of this, as I have been excluded socially for most of my life either because I was considered to young to be a part of what was happening, or now, too old to be considered a part of it. That continues to sting, and I continue to get angered at why age should be such a block to my happiness, when legal issues are not in play. But what can I say? That’s been my lot for a while now.
So call me weird. Odd. Crazy, even. But don’t call me too old. Or too young for that matter. I reject both claims, just as I did ten years ago, and will ten years from now.
Setting As (Changing) Character in Fiction
I’ve mentioned a few times that I’m now writing a series of short stories which take place in the same setting as my first novel. (A community playhouse.) I’ll be putting them in a collection and probably self-publishing them like many of my friends have, as a prelude or interest-sparker for the novel. But that’s a ways off for now.
I thought about making the stories feature the same characters as the novel, at least in part. I decided that would be giving away too much of what to expect in the novel. The next logical thing was to have all the stories take place in the same building.
Of course settings are often characters of their own in fiction. Whether it be obvious, like Hogwart’s in the Harry Potter series, (where it is quite literally alive in its own right), or more subtle like a historical setting. Even a modern city. Chicago has a character quite different from New York. Setting adds to your story, as characters interact with it, and live their lives in the midst of it.
I confess that unlike the people, I don’t usually go out of my way to outline in detail what sort of “character” the settings in my novel are. I tend to begin in a utilitarian sense; I ask myself, “what sort of environment is needed to tell this story?” And then I create it. (I rarely set my fiction in actual places. Too confining.) In the process of filling in those blanks, character of setting tends to appear in an organic fashion.
I’m learning more about the character of my setting for the novel now that I’m writing these stories. Based on some real life experience, the main setting for the novel is mostly my own creation, meant to bring specific life to the exact story I wanted to tell in the novel, not the short stories. These stories take place within a pre-existing structure, and must act accordingly. (I’m not one to change the rules of a building or universe just to fit a specific story.) These short stories will reflect the character of the building in ways the novel did not.
Also, given the varied nature of the stories, (some funny, some more somber), I get to see how the character of the place actually changes depending on what is happening. The physical characteristics may remain the same, but their impact on people shifts depending on various factors. That is true in the novel as well, but it is not as fast or as obvious there.
In some sense, this is giving more life to the environment. New characters and incidents must respond to what is already there, just like in real life. I get to explore the particularities of the Little Dionysus Playhouse that weren’t always available to me in the novel. It is both confining and liberating at the same time as I write the short fiction. I may make use of this tactic again for future novels, only before I finish, as opposed to after.
I have the better part of two stories, (out of ten) completed to rough draft stage at present. I look forward to exploring what else my own setting has to offer in the remaining stories.
How do you handle setting in your fiction? How do you respond to it as a reader?
Critique Progress
I can’t say enough about how helpful the comments from the novel review group have been in regards to Flowers for Dionysus We have met only twice so far, each meeting covering about ten thousand words of my novel. Be that as it may, things that have been brought up, praised and suggested have already begun to open my mind to new possibilities in the next draft. As this is the fifth draft they are reading, the lion’s share of the text is as I want it to be. The remaining drafts will be mostly polishing. But I have some great ideas as to where to polish.
It’s still early of course. They may grow to hate the rest of it. Yet even if they did, I know I can count on them to tell me why it is they don’t like what they’re reading. I trust them to do nothing more and nothing less than that.
Which is why I advise knowing people before you have them review your novel, should you be thinking about that route. Shorts stories are different; they lend themselves more easily to being critiqued be well meaning and knowledgeable strangers. But a novel is such a large investment of both time and spirit, you want to be sure, as I was, that those who will be offering detailed critiques are those who have already proven they know what they are talking about and are trustworthy.
In many ways I am the opposite of the stereotypical. Many are the times a writer has written something that they just know is outstanding, only to be brought down to size by a critique. In my case, I have always been proud of my work, but never acted under the assumption that it is brilliant just yet. In fact, there were always places I worried about. Places, I may add, that those in the review group thought were solid, and even enjoyable. So with me you have someone who has had some concerns actually quieted, as opposed to having them multiply.
I of course don’t have to do anything they suggest. I am sure I won’t do 100% of it. But already I know I will take certain suggestions and concerns to heart. It is clear even now that some of what they are noticing is legitimate, and probably would have gone unseen without their insight into the matter. The next draft will be, without a doubt, better because of their input.
And by the way, they aren’t ruthless, either. There is this notion that you have to find the meaning, coldest people you can to deliver the truth about your novel, if ever you want to improve it. I am here to tell you that at least for me, that has not been the case. They are honest without being cold, and explain what they mean without seeming as though what is there is without merit. In short they aren’t looking for things that are wrong. They are just honestly sharing a concern with me when it shows up.
The middle ground. Find it, when it comes time to have your novel critiqued. Avoid relying on yes men, and avoid dealing with those who feel they need to shoot it full of holes in order to get you to improve. Trust, respect, eagerness to help you. It’s the best way, and for now, I have the advantage of all three.
Ty Unglebower 