July 30, 2014


Fanfiction. I haz discovered it.

And - lest you think I am fifteen years behind the rest of the nerd-world (my ego just couldn't handle that) - I use the word "discovered" in the "holy crap this is better than I thought" sense, not the "this exists?" sense.

Here's the thing: I think we all think of the same two things when we think of fanfiction: "bad writing" and "smut", and while there's plenty (PLENTY) of both, there are also - for those who care to sift - some surprising...erm...surprises.

This is a particular woe of mine, that most of my favourite shows, or even favourite sub-plots end up dead; murdered by a network, malnourished by lost focus, or indulged into a permanent coma by that peculiar combination of water-skiing and sharks that's usually only recognizable in hindsight. Firefly was cancelled, Sarah got away from Jareth, and Hans is the villain. And let's not even talk about the precipitous departure of the Ninth Doctor, the abortion of a sequel that was Chronicles of Riddick, or whatever "Spock's Brain" was.

(Wow. I'm really letting it all hang out here, aren't I? Quick! Prove that you read stuff: Jane Eyre! Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell! Kurt Vonnegut! "Decomposing SPIAs: Rising Equity Glidepaths vs. Mortality Credits"! [wipes brow])

It's all well and good to imagine what happens next or what should have happened in any fictional universe, but you and I both know that what's in our own heads is infinitely less interesting or compelling or real as reading what's in other people's heads, provided these other people understand (and can execute) the subtleties of character, plot, and narrative.

And - as it turns out - there's a whole group of people that A) love the stories I love, B) want to write about them, C) have skillz, and D) do it for free.

Oh, lord, I do love the internet.

(Also: This is decidedly NSFW, but if you've read Jane Eyre and watched Firefly, this is for you. Leslie, put your tea down first.)