Okay, but imagine a medieval adventure fantasy where asexuals sell their services to parties who have to travel past sirens/incubi/succubi in order to fulfill their quests.
Imagine young witches and warlocks going through a final wizardry test where they have to square off against every magical creature they’ve ever learned about, and everyone is really confused as to how that one team just strolled past the sirens/incubi/succubi, and also as to why afterwards they high-fived, said “Aced it!” and then laughed for ten minutes straight.
Imagine a villain dousing a hero with a love potion and then unshackling her, expecting mindless devotion, only to have her then stab him and say “I’m aromantic, actually.”
Imagine an incubus carefully choosing a target and ending up on her couch with a tub of ice cream as she assures him that he is really good at his job and he can’t help it that he happened to pick an ace target.
Imagine an ace sailor who has to tie up his companions in the hold and sail the ship by himself whenever they encounter mermaids, and since it’s just him it’s really slow going, and he spends the entire time griping about allosexuals to the mermaids, who in turn gripe about how sick they are of having to target sailors before the sailors target them.
Imagine a love god trying to set up a pair of aro ace soulmates and putting them in increasingly romantic and/or risque situations, only to pull his hair out in frustration as they ignore or fix every situation and just become better and better friends.
Just like, fantasy asexuals, y’all.
I have a story in mind because of this post, guys. I adore this. Ace power!
Does anyone else ever think about how traditional fiction is categorised by plot/setting (romance, crime, thriller, fantasy) but fanfiction is categorised by the emotions it’s meant to give you (hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, smut)?
I think fanfiction is literature and literature, for the most part, is fanfiction, and that anyone that dismisses it simply on the grounds that it’s derivative knows fuck-all about literature and needs to get the hell off my lawn.
Most of the history of Western literature (and probably much of non-Western literature, but I can’t speak to that) is adapted or appropriated from something else. Homer wrote historyfic and Virgil wrote Homerfic and Dante wrote Virgilfic (where he makes himself a character and writes himself hanging out with Homer and Virgil and they’re like “OMG Dante you’re so cool.” He was the original Gary Stu). Milton wrote Bible fanfic, and everyone and their mom spent the Middle Ages writing King Arthur fanfic. In the sixteenth century you and another dude could translate the same Petrarchan sonnet and somehow have it count as two separate poems, and no one gave a fuck. Shakespeare doesn’t have a single original plot—although much of it would be more rightly termed RPF—and then John Fletcher and Mary Cowden Clarke and Gloria Naylor and Jane Smiley and Stephen Sondheim wrote Shakespeare fanfic. Guys like Pope and Dryden took old narratives and rewrote them to make fun of people they didn’t like, because the eighteenth century was basically high school. And Spenser! Don’t even get me started on Spenser.
Here’s what fanfic authors/fans need to remember when anyone gives them shit: the idea that originality is somehow a good thing, an innately preferable thing, is a completely modern notion. Until about three hundred years ago, a good writer, by and large, was someone who could take a tried-and-true story and make it even more awesome. (If you want to sound fancy, the technical term is imitatio.) People were like, why would I wanna read something about some dude I’ve never heard of? There’s a new Sir Gawain story out, man! (As to when and how that changed, I tend to blame Daniel Defoe, or the Modernists, or reality television, depending on my mood.)
I also find fanfic fascinating because it takes all the barriers that keep people from professional authorship—barriers that have weakened over the centuries but are nevertheless still very real—and blows right past them. Producing literature, much less circulating it, was something that was well nigh impossible for the vast majority of people for most of human history. First you had to live in a culture where people thought it was acceptable for you to even want to be literate in the first place. And then you had to find someone who could teach you how to read and write (the two didn’t necessarily go together). And you needed sufficient leisure time to learn. And be able to afford books, or at least be friends with someone rich enough to own books who would lend them to you. Good writers are usually well-read and professional writing is a full-time job, so you needed a lot of books, and a lot of leisure time both for reading and writing. And then you had to be in a high enough social position that someone would take you seriously and want to read your work—to have access to circulation/publication in addition to education and leisure time. A very tiny percentage of the population fit those parameters (in England, which is the only place I can speak of with some authority, that meant from 500-1000 A.D.: monks; 1000-1500: aristocratic men and the very occasional aristocratic woman; 1500-1800: aristocratic men, some middle-class men, a few aristocratic women; 1800-on, some middle-class women as well). What’s amazing is how many people who didn’t fit those parameters kept writing in spite of the constant message they got from society that no one cared about what they had to say, writing letters and diaries and stories and poems that often weren’t discovered until hundreds of years later. Humans have an urge to express themselves, to tell stories, and fanfic lets them. If you’ve got access to a computer and an hour or two to while away of an evening, you can create something that people will see and respond to instantly, with a built-in community of people who care about what you have to say.
I do write the occasional fic; I wish I had the time and mental energy to write more. I’ll admit I don’t read a lot of fic these days because most of it is not—and I know how snobbish this sounds—particularly well-written. That doesn’t mean it’s “not good”—there are a lot of reasons people read fic and not all of them have to do with wanting to read finely crafted prose. That’s why fic is awesome—it creates a place for all kinds of storytelling. But for me personally, now that my job entails reading about 1500 pages of undergraduate writing per year, when I have time to read for enjoyment I want it to be by someone who really knows what they’re doing. There’s tons of high-quality fic, of course, but I no longer have the time and patience to go searching for it that I had ten years ago. But whether I’m reading it or not, I love that fanfiction exists. Because without people doing what fanfiction writers do, literature wouldn’t exist. (And then I’d be out of a job and, frankly, I don’t know how to do anything else.)
“As a professor, may I ask you what you think about fanfiction?” (via meiringens)
I will dance around in a circle strewing rose petals and cooing THIS THIS THIS for the rest of time.
I write professionally and also heaps and heaps of fanfic and they both bring me joy, creative release and inspiration. I get paid for my pro fiction but not much. I make a living from corporate writing. Fanfic feeds the other two and vice versa. It’s a big ol’ writing loop of glee.
(via 221b-hound)
I’m going to print this out and the next time some smug bastard who spends their free time getting pissed and cheering on 11 muddy men against 11 other muddy men tells me I should stop writing and do something sensible as a hobby I’m going to show him this (before I punch him).
And while we’re on the subject, I’d like to say a few words about escapism. I hear the term bandied about as if it’s a bad thing. As if “escapist” fiction is a cheap opiate used by the muddled and the foolish and the deluded, and the only fiction that is worthy, for adults or for children, is mimetic fiction, mirroring the worst of the world the reader finds herself in.
If you were trapped in an impossible situation, in an unpleasant place, with people who meant you ill, and someone offered you a temporary escape, why wouldn’t you take it? And escapist fiction is just that: fiction that opens a door, shows the sunlight outside, gives you a place to go where you are in control, are with people you want to be with (and books are real places, make no mistake about that); and more importantly, during your escape, books can also give you knowledge about the world and your predicament, give you weapons, give you armour: real things you can take back into your prison. Skills and knowledge and tools you can use to escape for real.
As JRR Tolkien reminded us, the only people who inveigh against escape are jailers.