Inspiration
So. I've been catching up on metafandom, and I've decided to get my thoughts down and into some kind of an order for once. Under the cut is a sort-of essay on, amongst other things, the 'why fanfiction?' question. It's longish. I enjoyed writing it.
All the feminist debate sparked by Why Fanfiction Makes Us Poor unsurprisingly inspired me to get thinking about the nature of derivative fiction, and why it is that I write it, and read it, and enjoy it in all its many forms, and what implications this has for my understanding of my own feminism. Because derivative fiction is a phrase you could use to describe just about every text I love - and I’m using the word ‘text’ in its broadest possible sense here - as well as almost every piece of fiction I have ever written. I am drawn towards forms of literature which tends towards the derivative - genre fiction, fantasy, dystopia, fairy tales and folk heroes, and comic-book super-heroes. Maybe it’s the formulaic and the familiar which I’m so interested in, then. But I think I can unpack the notion of ‘derivative fiction’ a little further than that.
I write fanfiction, obviously. I write original stuff too. I have one of those unfinished fantasy novels, and I write short stories and poetry, some of which has been published[1]. I write genre-based stuff, and stuff that I consider to be working towards the literary. And yet…
And yet.
It’s Beowulf, and it’s King Arthur. It’s Icarus and Orpheus. It’s Midsummer Night’s Dream and it’s Paradise Lost. It’s all inherently and fundamentally derivative.
And here’s the point where I catch myself wondering about my own distinction between fanfiction and what I’d consider proper writing. And I do distinguish in my own head, arguments as to whether you should or can distinguish aside, and what is more, my distinction implies a value judgement[2]. In fact, my distinction looks suspiciously like snobbery - if I, subjectively, count the source text as ‘literature’, then my own derivative work can count for something too.
Except that it’s not even as simple as that. Neil Gaiman’s Sandman comics I definitely classify as literature, but my responses to it are filed firmly under fanfiction. And when I write King Arthur based stuff, I make some internal distinction as to whether it’s supposed to be fanfiction or not before I start.
So much for my writing. What about my reading? Let’s jump in at the deep end and start with the literary giants. I’m talking Shakespeare and Chaucer here. Which means I’m also talking Boccaccio, the Chronicles, Tacitus, the Hagada, the Jew of Malta. I’m talking sources and analogues and allusions and in-jokes and inspiration. I’m talking about structure derived from one place and content derived from another. I’m talking translations, rewrites where the focus has changed. I’m talking reactions to cultural or historical ideas.
What is Paradise Lost if not Milton’s reaction to the Bible? No, I’m not trying to claim Milton as a fanficcer, not as such. What he’s writing isn’t just derived from his source text. It’s an argument, a complement, a compliment. It fills in the gaps - and they are huge and important gaps. It critiques the almost-uncriticisable. It even adds sexual elements to a narrative originally lacking in anything other than implied sexuality. There’s a canon/fanon distinction, and places where that distinction is blurred. What he’s writing is not fanfiction, because of it’s cultural currency and historical importance, but the thing is, it behaves like fanfiction. And it achieves what it achieves not inspite of being derivative but precisely because it is derivative.
And having said that, I think maybe derivative is the wrong word for Pardise Lost. I think that maybe the word I’m looking for is ‘inspired’. It’s an important word in Paradise lost, inspiration. I wrote a finals essay on the subject. Of course it means literally - that is to say, it’s derived from - an in-breath, the filling of the lungs with air. I think that might be just the metaphor I’m looking for. I am breathing in the same molecules of air which have also been breathed in by Chaucer and Shakespeare, by Malory and the Gawain-poet, by Stan Kirby and Neil Gaiman and Joss Whedon. I’m taking in those molecules, and I’m applying a process to them, and do you know what? I’m releasing energy. Energy in the form of dialogue, new ideas, community, and all the rest of what goes into literature, and into fandom.
I’m going to call it ‘inspired fiction’ instead of ‘derivative fiction’ from now on, I think. Maybe that will help me to reverse the value judgement that I seem to have internalised. Say it with me then: I am a writer of inspired fiction.
And what about the feminist angle? Here’s another analogue between literature and fandom. Studying 17th century women’s poetry, I noticed a practice of writing (the critics I read called it Coterie Critical Practice - I don’t know if that’s standard terminology) which seems to me to be very similar to our culture of writing as fans. It’s a critical theory - a theory of how literature works - based not on conclusive reviews and receptions of conclusive texts, but a continual dialogue of emendation, correction, criticism and praise, which is complexly interwoven with social questions of politics, status, reputation and obligation. Criticism and correction of poetry (fanfiction), praise in poetry (fanfiction), and the recommendation of poetry (fanfiction) become part of a complex social currency.
It’s about self affirmation and self identity, it’s about community. It’s about how women (and some men, but mostly women), as groups of individuals, write together and explore themselves and each other and the wider world through art, through words, through mutual exchange of understanding. It’s about putting the effort in to communicate, about putting the effort in to understand, about putting in the effort together to bring the whole literary community up to new heights. It’s about a collective “feminine” and what’s more “feminist” community of communicators. And women have been doing it since the sixteen hundreds.
Those of you who have read my feminist ramblings in the past will know my argument about modes of ‘gendered’ language already, but for completeness’ sake, let’s recap the basics:
A person who is in a position of power (who is often but not always a straight white male) can assume that their view-point will be universally understood, and therefore they tend to use a mode of communication which places the burden of understanding on their listeners or readers. Communication tends towards the direct and confrontational. Meanwhile, a person who is not in a position of power (who could well be female, nonwhite or queer, but could equally well be the kind of geek used to his opinions being outside the mainstream), must often assume that their views will not be universally understood unless they make a great effort with communication. They are likely to use disclaimer words to identify their experience as one amongst many (perhaps, maybe, I think…), they are likely to consider multiple possibilities of interpretation even in everyday communication.
These two styles of communication are often labelled as ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’, and perceived as ‘strong’ and ‘weak’ respectively. ‘Feminine’ communication can be shouted down, it can be ousted from the mainstream, it can be dismissed as unimportant because it tends not to directly engage. And, in my opinion, it also contains some of the most powerful sets of communication tools we posses.
Fandom in general, and fanfiction in specific, in fact all ‘inspired fiction’, I identify quite firmly with that second, ‘feminine’ mode of communication. It makes use of all those disclaimer words: ‘maybe, perhaps, what if…’. At its best, it engages and debates with, criticises and complements its source material without resorting to direct confrontation. It’s an inherently collaborative form of communication. It shows us things from new angles.
And that’s it, isn’t it? That’s why I like derivative fiction.
That’s why I like to be inspired.
[1] Nothing worth writing home about yet, but I’m not just talking student or vanity publication either, I’m talking cheques through the post.
[2] My computer filing system has fanfiction as a third level subfolder, despite the fact that it’s probably my biggest output. It’s filed under writing, weird shit, fanfiction. Hidden away off the desktop and labelled weird. I keep meaning to change this, but I haven’t gotten round to it yet.
All the feminist debate sparked by Why Fanfiction Makes Us Poor unsurprisingly inspired me to get thinking about the nature of derivative fiction, and why it is that I write it, and read it, and enjoy it in all its many forms, and what implications this has for my understanding of my own feminism. Because derivative fiction is a phrase you could use to describe just about every text I love - and I’m using the word ‘text’ in its broadest possible sense here - as well as almost every piece of fiction I have ever written. I am drawn towards forms of literature which tends towards the derivative - genre fiction, fantasy, dystopia, fairy tales and folk heroes, and comic-book super-heroes. Maybe it’s the formulaic and the familiar which I’m so interested in, then. But I think I can unpack the notion of ‘derivative fiction’ a little further than that.
I write fanfiction, obviously. I write original stuff too. I have one of those unfinished fantasy novels, and I write short stories and poetry, some of which has been published[1]. I write genre-based stuff, and stuff that I consider to be working towards the literary. And yet…
And yet.
It’s Beowulf, and it’s King Arthur. It’s Icarus and Orpheus. It’s Midsummer Night’s Dream and it’s Paradise Lost. It’s all inherently and fundamentally derivative.
And here’s the point where I catch myself wondering about my own distinction between fanfiction and what I’d consider proper writing. And I do distinguish in my own head, arguments as to whether you should or can distinguish aside, and what is more, my distinction implies a value judgement[2]. In fact, my distinction looks suspiciously like snobbery - if I, subjectively, count the source text as ‘literature’, then my own derivative work can count for something too.
Except that it’s not even as simple as that. Neil Gaiman’s Sandman comics I definitely classify as literature, but my responses to it are filed firmly under fanfiction. And when I write King Arthur based stuff, I make some internal distinction as to whether it’s supposed to be fanfiction or not before I start.
So much for my writing. What about my reading? Let’s jump in at the deep end and start with the literary giants. I’m talking Shakespeare and Chaucer here. Which means I’m also talking Boccaccio, the Chronicles, Tacitus, the Hagada, the Jew of Malta. I’m talking sources and analogues and allusions and in-jokes and inspiration. I’m talking about structure derived from one place and content derived from another. I’m talking translations, rewrites where the focus has changed. I’m talking reactions to cultural or historical ideas.
What is Paradise Lost if not Milton’s reaction to the Bible? No, I’m not trying to claim Milton as a fanficcer, not as such. What he’s writing isn’t just derived from his source text. It’s an argument, a complement, a compliment. It fills in the gaps - and they are huge and important gaps. It critiques the almost-uncriticisable. It even adds sexual elements to a narrative originally lacking in anything other than implied sexuality. There’s a canon/fanon distinction, and places where that distinction is blurred. What he’s writing is not fanfiction, because of it’s cultural currency and historical importance, but the thing is, it behaves like fanfiction. And it achieves what it achieves not inspite of being derivative but precisely because it is derivative.
And having said that, I think maybe derivative is the wrong word for Pardise Lost. I think that maybe the word I’m looking for is ‘inspired’. It’s an important word in Paradise lost, inspiration. I wrote a finals essay on the subject. Of course it means literally - that is to say, it’s derived from - an in-breath, the filling of the lungs with air. I think that might be just the metaphor I’m looking for. I am breathing in the same molecules of air which have also been breathed in by Chaucer and Shakespeare, by Malory and the Gawain-poet, by Stan Kirby and Neil Gaiman and Joss Whedon. I’m taking in those molecules, and I’m applying a process to them, and do you know what? I’m releasing energy. Energy in the form of dialogue, new ideas, community, and all the rest of what goes into literature, and into fandom.
I’m going to call it ‘inspired fiction’ instead of ‘derivative fiction’ from now on, I think. Maybe that will help me to reverse the value judgement that I seem to have internalised. Say it with me then: I am a writer of inspired fiction.
And what about the feminist angle? Here’s another analogue between literature and fandom. Studying 17th century women’s poetry, I noticed a practice of writing (the critics I read called it Coterie Critical Practice - I don’t know if that’s standard terminology) which seems to me to be very similar to our culture of writing as fans. It’s a critical theory - a theory of how literature works - based not on conclusive reviews and receptions of conclusive texts, but a continual dialogue of emendation, correction, criticism and praise, which is complexly interwoven with social questions of politics, status, reputation and obligation. Criticism and correction of poetry (fanfiction), praise in poetry (fanfiction), and the recommendation of poetry (fanfiction) become part of a complex social currency.
It’s about self affirmation and self identity, it’s about community. It’s about how women (and some men, but mostly women), as groups of individuals, write together and explore themselves and each other and the wider world through art, through words, through mutual exchange of understanding. It’s about putting the effort in to communicate, about putting the effort in to understand, about putting in the effort together to bring the whole literary community up to new heights. It’s about a collective “feminine” and what’s more “feminist” community of communicators. And women have been doing it since the sixteen hundreds.
Those of you who have read my feminist ramblings in the past will know my argument about modes of ‘gendered’ language already, but for completeness’ sake, let’s recap the basics:
A person who is in a position of power (who is often but not always a straight white male) can assume that their view-point will be universally understood, and therefore they tend to use a mode of communication which places the burden of understanding on their listeners or readers. Communication tends towards the direct and confrontational. Meanwhile, a person who is not in a position of power (who could well be female, nonwhite or queer, but could equally well be the kind of geek used to his opinions being outside the mainstream), must often assume that their views will not be universally understood unless they make a great effort with communication. They are likely to use disclaimer words to identify their experience as one amongst many (perhaps, maybe, I think…), they are likely to consider multiple possibilities of interpretation even in everyday communication.
These two styles of communication are often labelled as ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’, and perceived as ‘strong’ and ‘weak’ respectively. ‘Feminine’ communication can be shouted down, it can be ousted from the mainstream, it can be dismissed as unimportant because it tends not to directly engage. And, in my opinion, it also contains some of the most powerful sets of communication tools we posses.
Fandom in general, and fanfiction in specific, in fact all ‘inspired fiction’, I identify quite firmly with that second, ‘feminine’ mode of communication. It makes use of all those disclaimer words: ‘maybe, perhaps, what if…’. At its best, it engages and debates with, criticises and complements its source material without resorting to direct confrontation. It’s an inherently collaborative form of communication. It shows us things from new angles.
And that’s it, isn’t it? That’s why I like derivative fiction.
That’s why I like to be inspired.
[1] Nothing worth writing home about yet, but I’m not just talking student or vanity publication either, I’m talking cheques through the post.
[2] My computer filing system has fanfiction as a third level subfolder, despite the fact that it’s probably my biggest output. It’s filed under writing, weird shit, fanfiction. Hidden away off the desktop and labelled weird. I keep meaning to change this, but I haven’t gotten round to it yet.