"Forever's an awfully long time."

Posts tagged ‘writing’

Why I Write Fanfiction

Fanfiction.

It is one word that gets thousands of different reactions from different people. I, as a proud fanfiction writer, have almost heard them all.

“Fanfiction? Harry Potter’s an accountant! Ron worked in a chocolate factory! HAHAHAHA!” (Excuse me, I will never write something as atrocious as that (sorry if you think it’s okay, or somewhat funny, but I will never write something that seems almost like an insult to the original author))

“Wait – you’re (insert my penname here)?! OMG. OMG. OHHH MY GOD. I’ve been reading your fics since first year high school!” (Awwww!)

“You’re ruining the (book, manga, TV series, cartoon, etc.). Just leave them be. It was supposed to be that way.” (… Just wait.)

“Whacha writing? … Fanfiction? What’s that?” (Well, sweetie, it’s hard to explain but yeah.)

“Fanfiction! Can you make one where Neji doesn’t die?” (I do. I do it all the time. </3)

“Well, it’s not going to end up in a book, anyway-“

These are actual legit expressions of people who have reacted to me writing fanfiction in public, or have commented on any of my Facebook statuses saying that I’m either writing or reading fanfiction.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am not mad at you personally, if you’re reading this and realize that ‘OMG, that’s me.’. As a writer, I take criticism very positively, and I understand that not a lot of people are going to like the same things that you like. You know, how not every person in the world is not going to like Twilight (I don’t) or some other vampire-ish novel (Still don’t).

So now that I’m done with my somewhat lively-not-serious introduction, let me continue on into this completely informal blog post.

Why do I write fanfiction?

I’m not going to give you the reason that, ‘Well, Harry Potter is done and over with, and there’s no way you’re going to get a new story out of it, so might as well make your own’ or ‘It’s a totally cool way to show off and flaunt my talent as a writer’ or ‘It’s what I do in my spare time when I’m not beating deadlines or making Nursing Care Plans’ or ‘Peer pressure’.

It’s waaaay deeper than that.

Let me narrate to you a situation.

You’re reading one of your favorite book series. (cough cough Harry Potter) You’re at the peak of the story’s plot. It gets very exciting. You’re happy. This is what your favorite characters are best at. Hexing, jinxing, flying on brooms, sword-swishing, running, lots of other magical verbs ending in -ing –

Oh, my god. Oh no. Oh no. Someone died. SOMEONE DIED. It can’t be. Nonononononononono-

You start crying. 

But then… you realize. 

YOU can bring him back to life. YOU can give him the love life he’ll never have. YOU can make his family happy. 

Taking the advantage of the fact that I consider myself a somewhat ‘okay’ fanfiction writer, and although it took me a bit, I have created fanfics that make almost everyone happy. Including myself.

You see, fanfictions are a way of letting my imagination become reality. (Or, I mean, as real as it could get, seeing that they really ARE never going to be published, except in the internet world) Fanfictions give me this weird sense of closure. (For example, when Neji died, I just made tons and tons and tons of fanfics about his death.)

So I see you looking at me, going, “Hey, Kaitlin. They’re just fictional characters.”

No.

Fictional characters were almost the only thing I had when I had four rough years of school. Fictional characters make me happy. They’re never JUST fictional characters.

Through fanfiction, I give them a new life, I make people laugh, cry (yes, I have made people cry. Not bragging or anything. It’s true.) and reminisce about their favorite character. Fanfiction makes me happy. And I’m not just doing it for others; to gain appreciation from the fan base. I’m doing it for myself.

That’s why I write fanfiction.

Update: Shameless plugging here, but if anyone wants to read any samples, just comment and I’ll link you. Thanks for reading!

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On Feeling Fourteen and In Love Again

I feel so old now that I’m in third year college. College. Not high school anymore. It’s a weird feeling. The only thing I probably have in common with my third year high school self is the fact that I still drown myself in books and writing every once in a while. I don’t mind that. I love it. I live for it. Other things have changed. The way I act, feel, even laugh. Well, that’s my opinion, anyway. But the subject of this post is more on the ‘feel’ part.

My third year high school self used to be head over heels for a certain someone ‘back in the old days’. Oh, god, I just hate the sound of that. Anyway, that self of mine had this old notebook filled to the brim with poems written about him, quotes that would come out of my brain and were ‘GM-worthy’, and little heart doodles in red, blue and black pen. I used to nearly collapse at the sight of him; I literally became Fergie’s song ‘Clumsy’, with the whole ‘tripping, stumbling, flipping, fumbling’ thing going on. Every single song I heard back then could be related to him.

I swear, in high school? When I fell for someone, I fell hard. Harder than falling from an airplane down to the ground without a parachute, straight down to a concrete sidewalk. Even if I didn’t ‘fall’, even if it was just a ‘crush’ (because yes, there is a difference between the two) I would totally over think the whole situation and just blow it out of proportion.

And of course. Who would dare lie and say that they never felt that feeling they got in their heart whenever their crush passed by? Yes, that feeling. The feeling of your heart beating so fast against your rib cage that it’s hurting you, but the pain just feels so gloriously good. Not in a sadistic sort of way. More of a… “Love is pain and pain is love” sort of way.

But isn’t that sadistic?

Oh, never mind.

It got different when I entered college, though. I’m not going to lie and say that I wanted to change myself. I matured and eventually grew out of crushes. In fact, I really can’t say that in college, I had a crush on someone who made me feel the same jitters, butterflies, and heart-stopping pain that I felt in high school. No, I had little crushes, splashes of admiration, times when I couldn’t help but turn my head at some beautiful specimen of a human being. But I had never felt again my legs turning to jelly, my heart beating as if it were a main character in a scary movie during the climax, my fingers shaking as if I had carpal tunnel syndrome, and my face blushing the colors of the rainbow.

So, you can probably understand me when I say that when around last week, when I bumped into someone I had been ‘slightly’ crushing on for a few months, I felt all of those feelings coming back to life.

I literally hugged the corner to catch my breath a little.

Why? I screamed at myself. You’ve seen him almost every day of your life, why in the world is this just popping up now? It took me all of my willpower to walk past him, every bone in my body shaking like a leaf.

And the thing is? It felt great. I felt… alive? No, that’s not the right word. I felt properly inspired, that’s it. Which is why I’m blossoming, writing more this weekend than any other weekend.

For once, I’m not feeling, or even being stupid about it. It’s just like high school again, just like being fourteen again, except I’m not over thinking it, I’m not sprinkling imaginary scenarios in my head which may or may not happen ten years in the future, or even getting jealous over the random girls in his life. Trust me, I used to get so jealous of other girls before it made me explode. But now? Nothing. No other feelings except for this strong attraction and pull towards him. It just feels right. I hope I’m right.

I’m happy when I’m with him, just talking with him, which is more than I could ever ask. But I’m never at the point of jealousy, like I said, that’s something that I’ve gotten over.

If anything is meant to happen, it will happen. For now, you could say I’m riding a horse bareback, no reins attached; just letting it take me wherever I want to go. And no matter how it ends, whether a knight in shining armor has decided to take the ride with me, or I end up thrown off this horse in a muddy puddle… I guess I’ll at least be glad I had some smiles and butterflies along the ride.

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