Surprising news in case you didn’t know: I’m a dork. A huge dork. I spend my days reading books and looking up fan theories about plot lines to children's shows. When it comes to movies, if it’s not a cartoon, I probably haven’t seen it. If you ask me a simple question about the summary of a series, I’ll talk for five hours.
As a writer, all these stories and fandoms and communities are heightened. I won’t stop talking about the characters because all I can think about is what happened after “The End?” I don’t have a single idea for my English paper, but I can list of a hundred different head-canons I have about Harry Potter.
Throughout the day, I find myself scrolling through Tumblr, reading different ideas about different series. I’ll listen to songs that try to retell fairy tales. What if Harry grew up with Sirius and not the Dursleys? What if Wendy agreed to be a pirate instead of saying no when Captain Hook asked her?
These questions are what helped me learn to write in the first place. A tiny 10-year-old me was so overwhelmed with possibilities that I had to get them out, somehow. No one wanted to listen to me babble on about cartoon characters for any longer than I already had. The only place I could turn to was fanfiction.
When I started writing fanfiction, most people still didn’t know anything about it, and I didn’t want to tell them. How awkward is it to say that you spent six hours trying to write about Hermione and Ron’s first kiss? I mean, seriously.
The writing was terrible because I was just starting out. Names were misspelled, everyone was out of character, and, of course, I had to create a character that was definitely not me, no way. She just happened to be 4'11" with brown curly hair, and brown eyes, and loved to read and write, and somehow had the same birthmark I did.
Despite the terribleness of the stories, fanfiction gave me a safe space to practice in. I was writing about characters that were already established, so I had a guideline to follow if they didn’t sound right. Hermione was never going to wear heels. Kagome wasn’t about to tell Inuyahsa that she didn’t care about school. I learned how to create and develop realistic characters, even if they were based on time-traveling half-dog demons.
The community around fanfiction persuaded me to keep writing. These random strangers on the internet provided me with the feedback that writing teachers try so desperately to teach to students. Find something positive about the work. Offer a constructive comment. End on something positive again. I was learning tricks from people in the UK, South Africa and Korea. There were other people around the world that had the same dorky ideas that I did.
If I didn’t have that support, I wouldn’t have had the courage to write original material. I wouldn’t have gone to college for Creative Writing. I certainly wouldn’t be sitting here, right now, trying to figure out how to make my 10-year-old self sound less lame. Looking back on it all, I’ve realized that I had to embrace the embarrassing parts of self to help improve who I am now. I’m still that dork that loves books. I’ll talk anyone’s ear off about my favorite cartoon shows on the Disney Channel. Just give me two more seconds to rave about the character development in my latest obsession.
These characteristics shouldn’t be hidden away because they’re embarrassing. They helped make me me, and openly loving them isn’t going to change a thing. They’re not guilty pleasures. They’re things that I sincerely enjoy. I have a consistent supply of inspiration, whether it’s coming from my own head or from the latest update on Pottermore, and there’s nothing wrong with either. We’re all telling the same story in the end, anyway.
