On Fanfiction and Original Fiction
I have a lot of feelings about the Tumblr debates surrounding fanfiction vs. “real writing” and am going to try to engage with them in the most productive/positive way possible, hopefully in a way that holds space for writers of all backgrounds and ability levels.
A note on my background, for context: I’m a professional published writer and writing educator. I hold an MFA from one of the top ranked MFA programs in the country. In the six years since completing my degree, I’ve been published in journals, anthologies, won literary awards and fellowships, been solicited by agents and presses for upcoming manuscripts, and have my first book coming out next year. My career has unfolded within the literary establishment, and I’m familiar with both its merits and its bullshit. I’m also a successful writer (of poetry, literary fiction, and speculative fiction) who gained many of my first, lifelong writing tools through fanfiction.
I’ve spent a lot of time processing the elitism, classism, and racism that writers (including Latinx writers like myself) face in the MFA world and in the publishing world. I’m working in a literary tradition that uplifts white male American minimalism as a style all writers should value and work towards. A literary tradition that discounts story structures that come from oral tradition, and discounts popular and genre fiction without considering why people connect with those stories. There are so many ways in which writers use their privilege and education to put each other down, and I think that this discussion engages some of these inequities even if it doesn’t come from that place.
As an educator, I’ve taught in a range of literary spaces. I’ve taught at my top-ranked university, where most of my students were financially privileged and had years of access to elite education. I’ve taught in inclusive nonprofit spaces with writers of all ages and backgrounds. I’ve taught in community spaces, writing poems and stories with homeless youth who dropped out of school, whose imaginations and ability to tell their own stories was no less than the young people who had more linguistic tools. A recent class I taught for my nonprofit was called “From Fanfiction to Fan-worthy Fiction”. In this class, I worked with teen fanfic writers to examine craft differences between fanfiction and original fiction. We talked about the tools they gained from fanfiction: writing genuine character moments, understanding character archetypes and tropes, asking “what if” questions and filling gaps in representation, writing toward an audience, developing a consistent writing practice, and learning to write toward the units of scenes and chapters. We also discussed the pitfalls they might discover as they transitioned to original fiction: original world-building, developing complex and nuanced character backstories, finding the right starting place, understanding story structure and pacing, breaking away from fandom inspiration, and editing and polishing.
Within the class, we talked about how, if we only read fanfic, our understanding of storytelling will be limited to what works in fanfic. There’s a world of story out there, and if we want to write original stuff, novels and short stories and poetry will help us gain the tools we need. This is what I think post “read real books” was getting at, but in a world where young people have their attention so divided by media and technology, I try to celebrate any reading my students are doing. If students tell me what kind of fanfics they love, what kinds of tv shows and videos games and stories they love, I recommend books they might also love. I had the privilege of growing up in a household where my love of books was fostered. This isn’t true for all writers. Some of my most successful writer friends and most talented students didn’t grow up in spaces where reading was valued or encouraged. I react against “read real books” because the phrase contains a certain privilege, as if people aren’t reading “real books” out of laziness or lack of ambition, or because they’re in a fanfiction bubble. It implies that consuming story outside of books isn’t “real”. Some of my students have felt intimidated by novels but welcomed by fanfiction. It isn’t a matter of yelling at them and telling them they’re doing something wrong—it’s a matter of helping them see that they can locate their love of story and character in books, then providing access points.
I wouldn’t be a professional writer if not for fanfiction. There are successful writers who have written fanfic and see it as separate from the development of their original work, which is great. But for me, who grew up with no writing community, with little access to creative writing education, and no place to geek out over the books I loved, fanfiction was an incredibly valuable training ground.
The heart of this argument is: who gets to call themselves a “writer”? Who gets to call themselves a “real writer”? What assumptions do we make in the process of assigning those labels? In my opinion, anyone who writes is a writer. My adult student who won literary awards and has her first book of poetry coming out with a major press. My friend who writes for Marvel. My friend who won the Yale Younger Poets Prize and a Lambda Literary Award. My retired adult student who always had a yearning to write but never actually tried it, who took her first class in her sixties. My thirteen-year-old teen student trying to find her way back into the education system, who had no grammatical tools, no education around writing, but wrote songs and raps just for herself. The sixteen-year-old fanfic writer who wrote to me seeking private coaching, who saved up all her money from her first job for those coachings, who didn’t even know what the past tense was and wrote and read only what you’d consider “smutty” anime pairings. All of these people were writing. All were doing the work of writing with the tools they had. All of them had an interest in learning more.
I like to believe that all fanfiction writers are writers, whether they pursue publication or not, whether they write original work or not, whether they develop their tools further or not, whether their writing has value for others or just for their own expression. If those writers want to improve—and we should always be improving, no matter how much we’ve published—then they can learn by reading, they can watch Youtube tutorials, and, if it’s accessible to them, they can pursue education in literary spaces. There are books that earn praise within the literary establishment that leave me cold. There are fanfics that ignite my emotion. There are lauded books that have forever changed me as a person and obscure books that have changed me equally. If you feel that writing is part of who you are, and it’s something you practice often, then you’re a writer, no matter what skill stage you’re at. I hope that claiming that title for yourself empowers you to develop your writing, using whatever tools you have available.
And if you want to take classes with me or other awesome writers from anywhere in the world, with lots of free sessions and scholarship opportunities, check out GrubStreet!
