Friday, September 27, 2002
Brooding on Life

Wallowing in self-pity first. Thanks to a rather explosive nasal incident this morning (ACHOO!!) my head is once again firmly stopped up, I have a headache, and I'm already starting to hear my inner hypochondriac pointing out that I can't get on a plane two weeks from today if my sinuses don’t resume something like normal operation. Wouldn't want to burst the other eardrum as well, would we?

As I go through life, I'm always surprised by which moments and images stick with me.

I remember ten(ish) years ago we went to the IceCapades. I hadn't been to the IceCapades since I was a young 'un and I wasn't prepared for how the whole thing had deteriorated. This time around, I didn't really understand what the point of most of the numbers was or why out of all of the tens of thousands of ice skaters in this country they couldn't have hired a few that could stay on their skates.

I didn't mind the skating food number. Really I didn't. But the image that's lived with me ever since is the moment when the wiener threw itself ecstatically into the embrace of the bun.

If I were a better person, I might not have had to be forcibly removed from the arena a few minutes later.

I also remember the exact moment when I realized that Happily Ever After isn't a guaranteed right under the constitution, that some people don't get to marry the ones they love, and that others might just not marry at all. The same year, if I remember correctly, that I actually realized that the world kept on turning whether I was watching or not. That other people's lives did not, in fact, revolve around myself.

It was something of a shock.

I don't know why I felt like today was a good day to share that.

Still, the memories of those moments stay with me.

But. Enough about my and my life. Let's talk about me and fandom.

Reading torch, I see she is pondering the emotional story wallow today. (I always like to read what torch writes in her journal but I'm not commenting over there any more until I learn to behave myself and not call some people's taste in fanfic evil.)

Anyhow. I've read and enjoyed the occasional emotional wallow in fanfiction, but I'll admit that it's never been of the "interior monologue" variety. I dislike that kind of story more often than not.

You know what I mean. The story where it's all someone sitting around thinking about what happened so that the author can write the character's every angsty thought connected with it.

Honestly? I think of it as a gimmick and I think writing a story in that format more often than not results in pages full of predigested pablum.

Certainly it's a lot easier than writing the actual story, showing what happened, giving clues to the characters' emotional reactions, and letting the readers chew the material for themselves. Maybe that's why so many people write that way?

The problem is that not one in a hundred fanfiction writers can capture a character's voice and translate it to internal monologue in a way that I find convincing.

I also find that kind of story boring. Unless the author is very skilled indeed, no amount of dragging out the process of letting me know what it is that happened to inspire all of this brooding dismay on the part of the character will make me eager to read on.

Beyond my elitist suspicion that it's easier than writing a "real" story, I'm not sure I have any clue why someone would write something like that.

Some people say it's what they're "hearing" from the characters.

I say they're not listening closely enough. If the characters are telling you how they feel about what happened, they're telling you what happened and maybe you're just not choosing to listen to that part of the story?

Or, you know, not. I'm sure there are some perfectly lovely stories out there where Ray or Jim or Walter just sits around and examines his life, dissecting minutely each important incident, and puzzling over every word to find complex layers of emotional meaning.

After all.

It's such a guy way to behave, isn't it?

Forget Men With Brooms. There are days I'd be glad to find Men With Dicks in fandom.

Because, you see, I am not one of those readers/writers who comes to slash to work out my feminist issues or post thinly veiled revenge stories for the abuses I think I or other women have suffered at the hands of men or even because I think the world would be a nicer place if They were more like Us.

I'm here because I like men in all of their incoherent, fumbling, emotional awkwardness. I like the tendency to act first and think later. I like the territorial possessiveness about their emotionality and I like the way that half the time they don't know themselves why something is "right" for them to do or say. I like their testosterone approach to solving problems and their complex antipathy to tenderness that's all mixed up with a desire to be cuddled. I like the way they feel all of the things we want them to feel but that they don't know how or want to put those things into words. I like their reluctance to let down their guard and the amazing amount of warmth and compassion they hide behind their bravado.

I think in a lot of ways the stereotypically "male" emotional A=B reaction is more honest than a woman's tendency to put life on hold while she gets in touch with her inner self and figures out how she's supposed to feel about something.

Plus which, men tend to be big and strong and I like that. Even "small" men are usually bigger and stronger than I am and I don't have a problem with that. I think muscles are just fine, thankyouverymuch.

I like reading about men. I like reading about men building relationships with other men when they can't rely upon a woman's interpersonal skills to bridge the gaps. And I like men having sex with men because if one man is hot, two men together is at least ten times that hot.

I like men.

I think I had more to say, but I'm supposed to be writing a presentation for a meeting next week.

Posted by AnneZook at 03:12 PM | Comments (0)



Tuesday, September 24, 2002
I Am Not Alone!

Hee. McSwain joins me in my ranting about the various idiocies in fandom! Stand up and protest, people! You have nothing to lose but your pain!

Sigh. I've been sick.

Six days of fever, sore throat, headache, sinus congestion, and a host of other symptoms that I'll spare you. I've been in pacing-the-floor, wringing-my-hands pain and suffering from collapsed-in-a-chair, moaning-feebly fevered chills and hot flashes. My head hurt. My ear hurt. My throat hurt. I couldn't eat. I was so dehydrated that I couldn't drink enough water to satisfy my body. I couldn't stay awake and didn't sleep well when I was asleep.

I have been very unhappy and I fully expect to feel waves of belated but sincere sympathy rolling my way.

(You don't have to write. Some form of telepathy will do.)

Today, thanks to the miracle of miracle drugs (which I finally wised up enough to go to the doctor and get some of) I'm actually thinking I might rejoin the land of the human sometime later this week. I am not well and I do fully realize that anyone with half a brain would still be home in bed, but I have a plan and I'm sticking to it.

A plan, I might add, that those who continue to insist they like me while simultaneously destroying my brain cells, are doing nothing to further by sharing with me the news that some moron actually wrote a Harry Potter/SG-1 crossover. Or that someone else wrote a "Harry Potter meets Jim Ellison in a leather bar" story. (Presumably they shared bottoming techniques but I do not want to know and if anyone tells me, I'm taking out a contract on them.)

Nor is the news that this string of dismayingly stupid words:

Vaelen peered out from his shield. In a defiant smile, he said, "In the words of my hosts' people, 'Nanny nanny boo boo.'"
appeared in a text format that some nitwit has the nerve to insist is a story going to speed my recovery.

Don't torment me with this stuff, okay? I'm not strong enough right now. I have a ruptured eardrum, I'm still running a slight temperature, and if I move too fast, I still get dizzy. Have some pity.

Last week was Fall Television Premiere Week. I wonder if it's a coincidence that I tried a number of new shows this year and wound up at the end of the week in a high fever?

I knew the Tim Curry vehicle, Family Affair had DISASTER tattooed all over it but we watched the premiere anyhow, to see the preview of the new Harry Potter movie, which was amazing. The show itself was inexcusably painful.


Push, Nevada was a show that I had some vague hopes for but it turned out to be a lackluster rip-off of Twin Peaks. I mean, okay, it was advertised as a new sort of Twin Peaks, but lacking the amazing music, the intriguing characters, and the memorable sets of its progenitor, I doubt that Push is going to last long. It's trying far too hard and the cracks were showing by the end of the first 30 minutes. Of course, they might hit their stride in a few episodes, but I won't be there watching if they do.

Lackluster is also a good word to describe the new Twilight Zone. I don't remember ever yawning when I watched the original.

CSI: Miami debuted last night to something less than the critical acclaim that was expected for it. I'll say the same thing I said last spring. They need to get rid of whatshisname, the guy who used to be on that cop show, and replace him with a character, and an actor, who brings something new and solid to the mix.

Among the things I didn't try were any of the new sitcoms about how funny family life is. I always feel that my grown up and childless state excuses me from having to sit through any of that crap. We did try a few minutes of Everwood, not because we liked the premise but because it was supposedly set in Colorado and we thought seeing some familiar scenery might be fun. Silly us. Naturally it was filmed in Canada or Nova Scotia or Greenland or something. We won't be turning that one on again, either. Next to stupid family comedies, I think I loathe sappy family dramas most.

And then there's Firefly, Joss Whedon's much-ballyhooed SF outing. I thought some of the characters were too predictably what I expected they would be when I read the character descriptions, but I'll admit that I wasn't in any condition to enjoy subtle nuances by Friday night so I might have missed something significant. But I did like it. A lot, and I'm looking forward to seeing it again. From the BtVS discussions I've followed over the years (I don't actually watch the show), I know that Mr. Whedon can be relied upon not to pull an X-Files and just abandon his original concept in two or three years. He's known for character development, backstory, creative plots, and smacking you with the unexpected just when you think you have his characters all figured out. I'm looking forward to this journey.

So, when you consider that I picked up both Monk and Dead Zone this summer, and that I have the return of CSI and West Wing to look forward to, I'll be watching five hours of television a week this year! I can't remember how long it's been since I watched that much television regularly.

One day last week a very attractive if young ATT rep showed up at our door to tell us that the joys of broadband connection could be ours for only about $45 a month! When you consider what we currently pay for AOHell and our second phone line (neither of which will be needed in the future), it's a bargain.

And for some reason, that makes me realize that it's now 10:04 and I've only spent ten minutes out of the last three hours working. I think it's time to give the company a little of my time.

Posted by AnneZook at 10:10 AM



Wednesday, September 18, 2002
I could be wrong

It happens.

Someone sent me a post and pointed out that the whole livejournal/blog thing is largely composed of people tossing all of their thoughts and the kitchen sink into one place for the world to enjoy or ignore at will and maybe, considering how I rail against the apolitical behavior of most citizens in this country, it behooves me to go ahead and mix up my real world politics with my rants on fandom and my ramblings about Alvin and the Chipmunk.

I just don't know. I tend to rant a lot more about politics than about fandom (hard to believe, isn't it?) and my politics are fairly defined. I mean, to put it bluntly, I haven't ordered an, "Impeach George Bush" t-shirt yet, but I'm thinking about it. I can't decide if any readers in this neighborhood would be entertained by my Bush-bashing.

Which brings me back to one of my original questions about blogging. Is one compelled to attempt to be entertaining?

Must one make entries with one eye on the readership or is one allowed to merely babble aimlessly and if the world finds one tedious, the world is free to shove it?

I'm keenly aware that my last few entries have lacked the venom of some of my earlier posts and that said venom appears to be the thing many were finding entertaining. Now that I'm defanged, are you still reading?

Am I alone?

(Was that an echo?)

Do I care?

I love metadiscussion. Even if I can't find anyone but me to talk to. (The same reminding person I mention above also reminded me that she first made my acquaintance through a yahoogroups group with a membership of one. She subscribed to the aforementioned group and found that it consisted of nothing but me arguing with myself about a story I was writing and calling myself names. No, I'm not in therapy. I'm not a danger to myself and others. I'm just easily amused.)

The point is that I don't actually require an audience outside of myself in order to keep myself amused. Like right now. I have no expectation that anyone in the world will actually still be reading this entry, but that doesn't in any way lessen my enjoyment of writing it. I'm happy just listening to the click of the keys as I type.

Really, I'm a very simple soul.

The advantage of talking only to myself, of course, is that I don't have to exercise any self-restraint. (Yes I do. You'd be surprised.) And also that when I make an ass of myself, I don't have an audience. I'm not sure if there's a disadvantage.

I should point out that I have a head cold, a sore throat, and a killer headache. These things should be factored in if you're contemplating reacting to my current mood. In more rational moments I do understand that there's no point in posting something on the internet if you don't want someone else to see it.

While I'm thinking about it, although I have no idea why I'm thinking about it, Cap'n Nasty, you can go here to find out what's really in Spam. Go on. You'll love it. There's haiku!

Posted by AnneZook at 01:14 PM



Sunday, September 8, 2002
Where, oh where?

Where do archives go to hide?

I'm not going to get a pissy about it, though. No. I've sworn off of that. I'm all about something resembling tolerance these days.

Why shouldn't some illiterate dweeb post a story crossing over ER with the Teletubbies if she wants to?

Why shouldn't some clueless infant reinvent herself as Galadriel's wiser, more beautiful, more powerful younger sister and single-handedly save Middle-Earth while fending off her hordes of sex-mad and love-struck admirers at the same time?

I'm not, as people have been trying to explain to me for years, required to read that kind of garbage and I promise that I do understand that the world is not required to bend to my will.

(If you're wondering what it was that finally broke my spirit, it was reading today that someone has actually crossed over West Wing's Leo with a member of some band. I've decided that it's just not possible for fandom to get any stupider. So I quit.)

(Of course, it could be low blood sugar. Maybe I should eat something.)

Posted by AnneZook at 10:58 AM



Friday, September 6, 2002
Friday!

I am so not into working today.

Anyone who doesn't read the Arcata Eye Police Logs is missing one of the best sites on the net.

11:46 p.m. Its novelty perhaps exhausted, a shaggy black three-legged dog was let loose in the 1800 block of G Street. An officer picked it up and placed it in the Corp Yard holding pen. So there, in a concrete and steel cell, the dog laid his confused head down on his curled tripod, alone in the dark night of abandonment.

Monday, August 5 2:18 a.m. Dogs went nuts, barking all over the neighborhood of Eastern and Lincoln avenues for reasons which must have made very good sense to them but which completely eluded human investigators.

7:33 p.m. Freaks were reported bothering people with the audacity to have actual lives on the south side of an I Street cooperative supermarket.

11:05 a.m. A mobile hallucination-vending facility allegedly set up shop in the 1100 block of Seventh Street in the form of a Chevy van from which shady figures asked passersby, "Hey, ya wanna buy some [drugs]?" Occupants were arrested on a warrant and charges of possession of a syringe and controlled substances. All in all, it seems like the whole idea was pretty stupid.

Sunday, July 28 10:35 a.m.
In fields off Samoa protruded
A traveler, stark raving nuded
Some cops said good morning
Then issued a warning
The pasture-ized naturalist scooted.


Yes, there really is an Arcata, Virginia. And this really is the police log as published in the hometown newspaper, the Arcata Eye. Every now and then, the mood comes over me and I read my way through the recent weeks until life seems good again.

Maybe I'll go live in Arcata the next time I want to run away from life.

1:11 p.m. We needn't inquire as to what came before or after. It's enough to know, from the APD dispatcher log, that "The possum was picked up."
Posted by AnneZook at 04:29 PM



"The Amateur Spirit"

"The Amateur Spirit" by Daniel Boorstin

An essay well worth reading.

The site is called, "Rich Geib's Universe" and he also has a page called, Thoughts Worth Thinking, a thoughtfully arranged collection of quotations. I found the page on Censorship and Book Burning striking.

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

I'd almost forgotten how much I love the poetry of William Butler Yeats.

Posted by AnneZook at 03:01 PM



Just Linking

Thanks to Dave Barry and the Miami Herald, we now have this handy mnemonic for that pesky "prostate" versus "prostrate" dilemma that so many fanfiction authors fail to solve correctly.

If two 'R's are found, it is down on the ground If one 'R' is on hand, then it is a gland

Got it?

Good.

Posted by AnneZook at 09:08 AM



Wednesday, September 4, 2002
Alvin and the Chipmunk

Today I saw my first hairy tire. I'd imagine I'm probably the only person in the world who didn't know that some jeeps have hairy tires but I assure you that the sight came as a great shock to me.

Maybe all cars can have hairy tires, I don't know. But I do know that there's a jeep in our parking lot here at the office that has a hairy spare tire.

It was actually sort of gross to look at. Like some kind of alien growth. Little hairy fronds sticking out all over.

Ick.

One day last week I was sitting here peacefully surfing the web before anyone else got into the office and I heard this humongous crash from the street. I wondered what kind of accident made a sound like a truck falling over and boogied over to the window to check it out. To my amazement, I discovered that a traffic signal pole had fallen over right into the street. Fortunately no one was driving under it at the time.

Still. Things like that shouldn't be allowed to happen, should they? It frightened me.

By the next morning the ever-efficient City of Denver had securely (one hopes) rebolted the pole to its base and thus ends another pointless anecdote.

I also saw someone wandering down the street with a sleeping bag. No backpack or anything. Just a sleeping bag that had a convenient carrying handle. I'd have stopped and asked her why such a nicely dressed woman was carrying a brown sleeping bag down the street but it seemed a little intrusive. Also I know that whatever the real reason was, it would have been much less than the ten or fifteen reasons I came up with for why a polished, professional looking woman would want to carry a brown, nylon sleeping bag at all times.

For instance, it should surprise no one to hear that, Cold War relic than I am, I instantly decided she was smuggling some kind of delicate instrumentation up to the suite of the Kindly But Mysterious Russian Tenants.

You'll be relieved to hear that Pointless Anecdote #2 is now over.

Alvin and the Chipmunk are the guys I work with. So far, there are only three of us in the company and the Chipmunk lives in another state.

Alvin and the Chipmunk were on the road for most of last week, Alvin is gone from today until the end of this week, and if I have anything to say about it, they're going to spend most of the next three weeks on the road as well.

No, I don't dislike them, but after two months of pressure, I've finally gotten a little momentum going on our crucial pilot project and I don't intend to let it all slip away just because the two of them think they're entitled to lives or something. No matter what Alvin says I remain convinced that his children won't actually forget what he looks like in four short weeks.

Let's face it, when they hired me, they said they needed someone to take charge and make sure the things that need to be done got done. They hired me because the person who referred me to them said I was pushy.

A certain family member with whom I shared that bit of information fell off of her chair laughing. In spite of possibly seeming a bit cranky when I write on-line, I'm not actually known (to my family) as a person with a backbone. Or, you know, any kind of firmness of personality. (Fandom seems to bring out a part of my personality I never even knew existed. But that's a different topic.)

When these guys hired me, sources that shall remain nameless told me that Alvin was a big pussycat and that the Chipmunk was a scatterbrain who meant well but who probably wouldn't be much use. Turns out that the Chipmunk, while a bit over committed on time, is really an excellent sales person while Alvin is usually about thirty seconds from going postal on someone. People tell you lies when they want you to come and work with them, don't they?

Alvin doesn't go postal on me, though.

I assume he doesn't realize how much of my time during the day is spent answering personal e-mail and writing blog entries or he might not be so restrained.

Anyhow, I do some work every day.

Pretty much.

I mean, I've written a marketing plan and an installation manual and a user's guide and helped design the contact management system since I started working here, not to mention getting 150% of the customers we needed for a crucial pilot project. I don't think that's too bad for nine weeks, is it?

The trouble with working for such a small company is that I can't measure my productivity against anyone else's to see if I'm goofing off an excessive amount or not.

The problem with turning into Mary Sunshine and voluntarily showing up for work at 7:15 or 7:30 in the morning is that I tend to start fading pretty badly right about now, 3:30 in the afternoon. That's when I usually start blogging.

That's a lie. I start blogging whenever something to write about occurs to me.

Anyhow.

Alvin is pretty entertaining. Today he earnestly explained to me the different kinds of "stock options" that a company can decide to offer and explained why our company is going to go with the easier to create although potentially less profitable for the employees system.

He seemed worried that it was a deal-breaker and that I might hand in my resignation. When did I start looking so "mature" (old) that people started taking me this seriously? I don't like it.

I didn't understand a single word he said. Except that there was one crucial phrase, something about an "less of an up-front investment" or something that I've been worrying about. I mean, am I expected to pay for the privilege of working here? They're already into me for about $700 in expenses that I haven't gotten around to turning in. If they think I'm going to be able to come up with $10k or $50k or something to "buy a share" of the company, they're in for a big shock. I don't got that kind of money, okay?

I mean, I could maybe raise $5k on short notice, if I really had to. But I'm saving that power for bailing Cap'n Nasty out of jail or buying the Dockside Dame a big-screen TV or something else really important. I'm not investing my borrowing power in my own future.

That would be silly.

My actual fund of urban adventures stories is clearly limited at the moment. I've been too busy to go out for lunch most days and lunch is when I tend to have the most adventures.

Today, for instance, I spent what should have been my lunch break writing a blog. Now it's late afternoon, my enthusiasm for working has ebbed, and I'm blogging again.

I'm thinking this might be a pretty good sign that I'm goofing off too much.

Posted by AnneZook at 04:20 PM



What I could be Reading

For the conspiracy theorist in all of us, check out Secrets of the Tomb, excerpted on MSNBC.

I can't remember the last time something amused me this much. I think I'll buy the book.

What I am reading
The Seven Story Tower: A Mythic Journey Through Space and Time (by Curtiss Hoffman, Edith Gilmore, Ph.D. Curtiss Hoffman)
Actually, I just started it last night, so no information yet on how good it is. It's billed as "A compelling introduction to the world of myth and its influence on culture and society" and I only hope it's half that good.

What I just finished
Nathaniel's Nutmeg: Or, the True and Incredible Adventures of the Spice Trader Who Changed the Course of History (by Giles Milton)
I finished this one recently and highly recommend it, in spite of thinking that the author tried far too hard to turn what was a fascinating topic on its own (the opening of the Spice Islands to European traders) into an adventure novel based on the life of one man who appears, with many others, along the way.


What I might read someday soon
In spite of being told that it drags rather badly, I think I might tackle The History of Salt next.

Posted by AnneZook at 02:54 PM



Tangential Thoughts

Okay, I'm going to break a lifelong vow here.

(Well, no, I'm not. But I'm going to depart from my usual free-form, white-knuckled ranting style for a moment to talk about torch's latest post.

I think the purpose of the "comments" function is so that I can agree or disagree with what she's saying right there on her site, but it's not really my place to be taking up space in her life with my bad attitude, is it?

I didn't think so, so I put a little response into a comment, even though I tend to stay out of other people's journals because I assume they'd rather the rest of the world didn't know that they know me, even slightly, and now it does occur to me that I was sort of inflammatory, what with calling some people's choices in fanfic evil and all and maybe I'd better go look for an edit button.)

Anybow.

I intend to babble endlessly on one of torch's topics, so I'll use up my own bandwidth.

I liked her point that a writer might hit their stride in their fifth fandom instead of their first. And I'd like to add the thought that because of a writer's style/voice/approach/whatever, she may write brilliant Sentinel fiction but the world's worst X-Files fiction or completely forgettable PM fiction.

Some of that is because the writer can "visualize" (for lack of a better word) the one fandom better—it fits better into her personal world-view and experiences, it's something she can relate to.

"Write what you know" doesn't necessarily mean write high school romance and bad grades stories just because you're seventeen. Think of it more as "write what you know" emotionally, instead of literally and maybe you'll understand what I'm trying to say.

Much as someone might love the idea of Mulder/Krycek, it's just possible that her intellectual understanding of the whole hate/love dynamic is simply insufficient to carry a story.

It's possible that you can't have to a real understanding of the emotional ambivalence of the M/K relationship just because you understand, intellectually, how such a relationship functions. If the author lacks that emotional connection to the action of the story, I'd argue that she's going to find it difficult if not impossible to write in a way that allows the reader to connect to the emotional heart of her story.

I'm not saying this well, I know.

Or, as t mentions, sometimes the person has learned enough about the craft of writing that by the time she hits her third or fourth or fifth fandom, she's putting out a better product.

See, I disagree with t about the HP story Lust over Pendle. I think it does capture the feel of the source material and better, really, than almost any other HP story I've read.

The charm of Lust over Pendle, as with the books, lies largely in the secondary characters for me. Neville's grandmother, Draco's mother, Harry's appalling family, all of these characters come alive in Lust over Pendle. They're three-dimensional with fully realized personalities and flaws. Draco is still the same jerk, but an older and slightly wiser jerk. Hermione is still a bossy, know-it-all, but mellowed by time and experience. Neville is still somewhat uncertain of himself, prone to dithering and making mistakes.

I don't find the adult versions of the book children hard to connect with the source material. They're not the exact same characters, but I think they're believable, convincing representations of who the book children might have become.

The plot of LoP is at least as well worked-out as the plots of the HP books and if the writing itself is more complex and mature, well, this story wasn't written for ten year-olds, was it?

But t sees a heavy influence by Terry Pratchett when she reads LoP. I can't tell if she's objecting to the humor or not, but surely not since the HP books themselves are pretty humorous.

Surely not the writing style since, while I'm very much a fan, I'd argue that Pratchett's characterization is fairly two-dimensional, plots simplistic, and writing style very straightforward. Nothing, in fact, like the way I perceive LoP.

As t makes clear, LoP doesn't work for her as a connection to what she perceives as the HP universe. Since it connects very solidly for me, I'm thinking that I wish I had the nerve to write to her and demand she produce a special essay, just for me, composed of what she thinks of as the essential identifying factors of the HP universe.

I should also mention, just to be fair, that I know of one other reader of the story who complained that it was "emotionally distant" to her. That's a different problem, I know, but I'm just saying. Not everyone who has read LoP has loved it although its fans appear to be numerous.

In a move that may be illegal, or at least in bad taste, let me quote t's words here:

The idea that it is desirable for fanfic to be compatible, in tone and/or subject matter, with the source material unfortunately made me explode through trying to agree and disagree at the same time. If you look at it one way, it's the whole more vs. different question--do you want more of the same, something as close to the source material as you can get, or do you want something different, something that goes places the source material never did? And my answer to that is usually a resounding and confusing yes, please. I like more, and I like different. I like a connection to the source material, yes, but I tend to think of that mostly in terms of believable characterization; I do think it's possible for a horror fandom to support a romantic comedy, and vice versa. But then again, there are times when tone is everything.
But. I think the "tone" of the source material is a more fundamental issue than whether or not you're writing romantic comedy in a death-and-destruction fandom. I agree with t that you can write that kind of thing successfully, but I also insist that the romantic comedy of Law & Order is going to be significantly different than a romantic comedy for West Wing because the "tones" of the two fandoms are so very different.

And I naturally agree with t that it all comes down to characterization. Because the behaviors and reactions of the characters in West Wing are nothing like the behaviors and reactions in characters in Law & Order. (Although I'm making some blind assumptions since I've never actually seen L&O.)

I'm still explaining myself badly, aren't I?

Let me try using well-worn clichés.

A romantic comedy set in the universe of a gritty cop drama is necessarily going to be different than a romantic comedy set in the universe of a political drama that, even in canon, has a certain screwball tone.

"Comedy" is likely to be darker in the L&O universe, even mean-spirited. If someone slips on a banana peel, his co-workers are going to gather around, laugh at him, and then tell, everyone else what happened. And he'll be finding banana peels in his locker and in his lunch sack for six months.

In the political world of WW, comedy is likely to be screwball, even with a touch of gentle slapstick and the same slipped on a banana peel is going to be met with a caustic remark and then not mentioned again until it's used as ammunition to throw the slippee (is too a word!), off-balance in a later argument.

"Romance" is going to differ between the two universes as well.

I'd assume that L&O characters might fall into each other's arm, in a convention beloved of fanfiction—the "ohmigod we almost died and now my sex-drive is in overdrive and by the way I love you," scenario.

In WW it would be more likely to be the result of verbal sparring that masks a very real attraction when, in some late-night bull-session, the characters find themselves grappling on a sofa with only an indistinct idea of what sparked the move.

I'm still explaining myself badly, aren't I?

What I mean to say is that any genre of story can be written for any fandom universe. But that has nothing with what I define as being faithful to the "tone" of the universe

I'm still not saying this well.

This is why I never responded to any of t's interesting thoughts before. She's so much more articulate than I am. Plus which, I suspect she takes the time to re-read and edit her livejournal entries instead of writing while at work and then posting on the sly, the way I do.

Posted by AnneZook at 12:27 PM



Monday, September 2, 2002
Don't Touch My Stuff

I don't understand where the movement came from to make everything in fandom all-inclusive, that's all.

HetSex fans, Slashers, Gen-only readers, these are all designations that evolved in fandom because the fans wanted them.

The only overall descriptive term used to sound a lot like, "geek." Of course, that was long before Bill Gates and his billions make "geek" into something enviable, wasn't it?

Now we're all being scooped back into the melting pot, or at least slash, the former outcast portion of fandom is being asked to take a lot of other, unrelated topics under its wing.

I don't think so.

There are a lot of fans, what with the easy access of the internet and all, and most of the newer ones don't have much of an idea what fandom is beyond the fact that they finally found a place where they can gush and squeal and share badly spelled fantasies about their favorite television characters. (Don't get me wrong. I've done my share of gushing and squealing. I even make typos. But some of these newbies are making "clueless idiot" an art form.)

Even fewer of these newer fans seem to have any real idea of what slash is supposed to be. The proof is that so many people have been trying to define it for them. If we used the original description, then it wouldn't need al of this debate, but everyone's trying to broaden the term so that it gathers more and more of the fringe elements of fandom into one category.

Why?

What's wrong with some kind of mapping system where people interested in different things know where to find like-minded fans? I don't personally have a problem with people who want to form their own little list about two members of some boyband who get bit by vampires and become creatures of the night forming said list, okay? It moves some of the Real People Sex fans out of my orbit. In addition, it collects up some AU fans and removes them from my line of vision as well. Both very good things.

Me, I'd like to find a place where people interested in fandom can gather without being infested with the tens of thousands of twerps whose only real interest in it all is being able to read about sex without having to check out or buy a books and reveal their interest in the topic to (god forbid!) another human being.

I want to hang out in a different fandom than the one inhabited by people who find the characters and canon irrelevant to their enjoyment of the physical attributes of one or more of the actors.

There was a point where fanfiction was becoming a phenomenon. Almost a real genre. People were paying attention to what we were doing and trying to figure it out. It was something with an identity, something clearly evolving into a significant force.

Fanfiction took that most mainstream of mainstream entertainment, television, and started turning it inside-out.

Fanfiction started finding nuances, expanding on character potential, and writing the backstory and the off-screen stories that television didn't have time for or wasn't interest in. Creating depth and resonance from material that could not have been more shallow. (Come on, do you remember television in the late 70's and 80's?)

Slashers went one step further. They watched characters interacting, considered the personalities and the cultural and professional biases the characters might possess and then figured out a way to overcome those things to expose and explore a perceived emotional/sexual connection between the characters.

From the 70's through the end of the millennium, slash evolved as the writers' and readers' own cultural biases evolved. From something barely mentioned above a whisper, homosexuality became openly and publicly acknowledged. Slash gained respectability (in fandom) at the same pace.

Even F/F slash, originally a vanishingly small percentage of fanfiction, started gaining a significant fanbase.

As alternate sexualities became at least marginally accepted by mainstream society, slashers turned more and more to arenas where old-style prohibitions still existed, both because those situations were fraught with potential homoerotic interaction and because stereotypically male-only environments might be considered to be the venues where men were...well, where they were mostly like men as opposed to the domesticated male found in the average sitcom. And where the female characters in those traditionally male environments might also be free to explore different sides of their own personalities.

All that and it was hot, too.

And now it's just this mishmash of crap with six different kinds of kitchen sinks thrown in. As long as something getting off, it's slash. Animal, vegetable, or mineral, it doesn't matter. Bring it on. Want to turn someone into Puff, the Magic Dragon? Go ahead. Want to write some guy doing it with a tree? Please do.

Is this what we really want?

Instead of redefining what slash it to include more people, shouldn't we be sending them politely worded notes asking them to coin their own labels for what they're doing?

(A case, and a good one, could be made for the expansion of the fanfic genre because of all of this extra imagination being thrown into it. I'd probably even buy the idea if it weren't for the fact that this oddball stuff is mostly just crap. You're not exploring a brave, new world if you can't even spell what you're trying to write about.

And, again, the vital necessity of decent characterization comes into play. If it were actually canon characters being translated into these new areas, I'd buy that some interesting results might ensue. Since most of these stories consist of simply applying character names to completely unrelated beings, it doesn't hold water.)

P.S. I want points, big ones for not going off onto a tangential rant about the abysmally stupid woman who actually wrote a story where one (male) character bemoaned that is was his male love interest who was raped instead of a female co-worker since women, having vaginas and all, are better built for rape than men. The misogyny of fanfiction, even some purportedly hetfic, is a whole 'nother subject.


Posted by AnneZook at 09:21 AM