Fanfic as Play, or Eating my Words
Many, many moons ago, I wrote a long, detailed essay called The Ten Commandments of Crossovers. It was a thorough look at what I called the do's and don't's of crossovers. Mostly don't's, actually. These included things like not crossing sources just because you think it would be "neat" (unless it could actually go beyond that to a real story), not mixing genres (vampires on West Wing = no-no), and not mixing incompatible universes (West Wing and Stargate, for example, were pretty much mutually exclusive, on accounta the presidents and such). I was quite firm on all these subjects.
You're all laughing at me really hard right now, aren't you?
Now, let's be clear: the universes of DC and SPN are pretty much completely incompatible (just mixing them for 100 words gave me headaches), the genres are similar yet radically different, and there's no question: the only reason I'm doing this is because the idea is neat. And yet...Dick just offered Dean a second beer, and if I play my cards right, this will all end in a motel room.
Mind you, I'd pretty much already sold my integrity years ago just to have President Bartlet say, " Get me the Fortress of Solitude."
Yeah.
So what happened? Well, it's tempting to say I pulled the stick out my ass, but that's not fair. It's not fair to my younger self, and it's not fair to the people who write serious, carefully considered crossovers, because I still think those are good guidelines if you're really trying to make your crossover work.
But I think what's missing from the essay, or at best indirectly alluded to, is that sometimes, fanfic is about play. I don't mean play as in, "geez, who cares," but play as in whimsy. Experiment. Sometimes, fanfic is about seeing how far you can push John Sheppard's dark side. Sometimes, it's about CSI investigating the death of the troll in Moria. Sometimes, it's about, God help us, high school AUs.
In other words, sometimes it's about doing something just because it would be neat. And I think sometimes that gets lost in all the shoulds and couldn'ts and wouldn'ts.
Now, that doesn't mean you have to like everything that comes out of it. One person's play is another person's JESUS CHRIST AUGH MY EYES. I pretty much walked away from a fandom because the play was taking a form that fairly seriously wasn't my cuppa. But I can't deny that this play was making a lot of people very happy, and I didn't see that it was my place to piss on their Cheerios by telling them all the reasons they should stop it. I mean, it turns out my notion of play wasn't some folks' cuppa, either, but it sure makes me happy.
Now, that said, it doesn't mean you should never rant or write essays on characterization, either. Essays are fun, and ranting is cathartic. But I think if I had to give a piece of advice to my younger self, I'd advise her to make it clearer that those Commandments were guidelines for serious stories, to contextualize it a bit more, think more about who might read it and why. I'd advise her to give more thought to things done just for a hell of it.
Okay, I might very well tell her to take the stick out of her ass. ;)
You're all laughing at me really hard right now, aren't you?
Now, let's be clear: the universes of DC and SPN are pretty much completely incompatible (just mixing them for 100 words gave me headaches), the genres are similar yet radically different, and there's no question: the only reason I'm doing this is because the idea is neat. And yet...Dick just offered Dean a second beer, and if I play my cards right, this will all end in a motel room.
Mind you, I'd pretty much already sold my integrity years ago just to have President Bartlet say, " Get me the Fortress of Solitude."
Yeah.
So what happened? Well, it's tempting to say I pulled the stick out my ass, but that's not fair. It's not fair to my younger self, and it's not fair to the people who write serious, carefully considered crossovers, because I still think those are good guidelines if you're really trying to make your crossover work.
But I think what's missing from the essay, or at best indirectly alluded to, is that sometimes, fanfic is about play. I don't mean play as in, "geez, who cares," but play as in whimsy. Experiment. Sometimes, fanfic is about seeing how far you can push John Sheppard's dark side. Sometimes, it's about CSI investigating the death of the troll in Moria. Sometimes, it's about, God help us, high school AUs.
In other words, sometimes it's about doing something just because it would be neat. And I think sometimes that gets lost in all the shoulds and couldn'ts and wouldn'ts.
Now, that doesn't mean you have to like everything that comes out of it. One person's play is another person's JESUS CHRIST AUGH MY EYES. I pretty much walked away from a fandom because the play was taking a form that fairly seriously wasn't my cuppa. But I can't deny that this play was making a lot of people very happy, and I didn't see that it was my place to piss on their Cheerios by telling them all the reasons they should stop it. I mean, it turns out my notion of play wasn't some folks' cuppa, either, but it sure makes me happy.
Now, that said, it doesn't mean you should never rant or write essays on characterization, either. Essays are fun, and ranting is cathartic. But I think if I had to give a piece of advice to my younger self, I'd advise her to make it clearer that those Commandments were guidelines for serious stories, to contextualize it a bit more, think more about who might read it and why. I'd advise her to give more thought to things done just for a hell of it.
Okay, I might very well tell her to take the stick out of her ass. ;)