Fic: Why Fanfiction Is Taking Over the World

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Fic: Why Fanfiction Is Taking Over the World Page 38

by Jamison, Anne


  A vast, vast majority of the stories are AU, or set in an alternate universe, where the members of One Direction are not members of the band at all. They feature Zayn and Niall as high school marching band drum majors; Harry and Louis as accidental parents; Liam and Zayn caught in a tragic love affair during World War II; Harry as a bartender and Louis as a burlesque dancer; Zayn as an art student and Liam as a barista; Niall as a leprechaun; and on and on. Louis as the Doctor and Harry as Amy Pond. Harry as Mark Zuckerberg with Zayn his long-suffering Eduardo against the nefarious presence of Nick Grimshaw as Sean Parker. Although I didn’t count this statistic, there are probably more intense AU fics per capita for One Direction than there are canon-based fics (based on fic repositories and rec lists on LiveJournal, Tumblr, and AO3).

  Then again, “canon”—official or sanctioned “reality” as defined by the source material—means something different in regard to RPF, because of course there is no such thing as a canon-based RPF. Not really. There’s only the tiny portion of manufactured “reality” that fans can observe. It’s a different kind of manufactured reality than fictional canons, where all choices were made deliberately by an author or showrunner, because the observable moments of RPF are a random jumble of marketing ploys and happenstance, crafted constructs and slips of actual personality, about which fandom at large comes to a consensus.

  The key difference between RPF and traditional fanfiction is that RPF stems from what Kayley Thomas, a master’s candidate at the University of Florida studying folklore and fanfiction, calls remediation:130 a process of globally creating a common narrative from unrelated real-world events for the purpose of forging a canon or fanon (a common fan consensus not based on observable or textual “truth”) understanding of real people as characters.

  What Thomas is essentially arguing is that celebrities (or their publicists, at least) create an intentional character through all of their public material, but it varies and changes through time and circumstance. Like any other living person, the celebrity whose actions create his or her “canon” grows, changes, and reacts to situations organically—unlike a fictional character. Watching that organic growth, RPF readers and writers attempt to construct and keep running a cogent, singular narrative of the celebrity’s life. However, real lives do not have singular narratives. They’re messy. And they’re not narratives at all.

  Thomas suggests that since interviews with major media sources are often meant to stand on their own for uninitiated viewers (which is why interviews with celebrities tend to be so redundant), each piece of celebrity media should instead be taken as an individual, unique canon, not part of a larger whole.

  In the reality of fandom, though, that is not the case. Fans instead take the loose information provided through that material—interviews, Twitter, photos, and so on—and reincorporate it into a unified fanon, or “whole” picture of the celebrity. Because celebrities are often aware of how their fans perceive them, especially in today’s age of instant and continuous Twitter interaction, the celebrities sometimes then take fanon into account—consciously or subconsciously—in further creating their personae’s canons.

  Ramona, a twenty-one-year-old writer in many RPF fandoms, explains that the process of writing RPF is “a lot like [being] an actor preparing for a role, looking over the script time and time again and forming [your] own idea of the character in [your] head. It probably won’t be exactly the same idea as the person who wrote the script, but I think that’s what I like about fic and movies in general. You’re never going to come across two people who characterize [other] people the exact same way . . . It happens with everything, even people you meet at work or at school. You may’ve only talked to someone one time, but you already assume a lot about that person’s personality based on whatever conversation you’ve had.”131

  These constructed “characters” are also necessarily simplified, reducing real, complex people into more marketable stereotypes (the Chill One, the Sensitive One, etc.). In this context, even the most “in-character” Liam Payne of fanfiction—the Liam who appears to adhere most closely to the public “canon”—is still deeply, deeply OOC, or out of character, compared to the real person. Zayn Malik himself has stated that although he is seen as the “quiet, moody, mysterious bad boy,” he loves a joke and playing pranks; enjoys staying in with his girlfriend, Perrie Edwards of Little Mix; and sees his persona/role as “misunderstood.” Louis Tomlinson, financially responsible for his family and a deeply invested booster of his hometown (even helming their local football team—a true badge of patriotism in the UK), is painted in official and fan media alike as inanely immature and self-absorbed, although that is visibly untrue.

  “When I read and write RPF, I keep a distinct line in my head, one that separates the real people from their fictional characterizations,” says eighteen-year-old reader-writer Shrew.132 “Personally, I do not believe that any of the relationships that I write (het, slash or otherwise) are real. I tend to feel that I am writing about personae rather than people themselves—I understand that there is a difference between what someone presents to others/to the public as a celebrity, and what they actually are like.” Shrew writes both het and slash, with pairings ranging from canon—in this case, real, confirmed relationships—to fanon and crack (pairings that can in no way be construed as canonical, such as real person/fictional character or characters who have never met or interacted). All are based on stock characterizations that she has crafted from assumptions she’s made while viewing official material, which she calls “headcanon.”

  All the same, assumptions based on headcanon are built on the materials available to the fandom during its initial stages (as was the overwhelming popularity of Harry/Louis as the OTP, the One True Pairing, of choice). The difficulty—and the fun, and the challenge, and the beauty—of RPF comes from the ever-changing nature of the materials available for creating canon as the people who generate it grow, change, and react to experiences in new ways. What was considered an “accurate” assumption in 2010 may be seen as wildly unrealistic in 2013. Kayley Thomas’ process of remediation (the construction, by RPF writers, of a coherent reality from the available bits and pieces of media) then becomes the creation of a through-line, from who these people “were” at the outset of fandom to who they “are” now, via a cogent narrative—essentially rendering the “real people” being written about into fully fictional characters that happen to have real faces (just like any character portrayed by a live-action actor).

  “I’d say the main difference for me with RPF is the accessibility of source material, and the fact that the fandom is constantly moving with new information and events . . .,” says Cat, a twenty-five-year-old writer who has participated in both RPF and traditional fanfiction for nearly a decade.133 “I use as much material as I can get my hands on in order to form characterization. In no way do I think this means I am getting an accurate characterization, but it does make me feel like I am offering a story appropriate to the particular fandom rather than just a story about two hot guys (or whatever).”

  “I try to keep the events and characterization as close to what I think their lives are like as possible [based on the available information], but there’s no way to know,” says Darcie, a twenty-four-year-old One Direction slash writer. “I try to be as respectful as possible, too.”134

  Therein lies the biggest difference between what RPF is and what detractors tend to think RPF is: the readers and writers of RPF want their work not only to be respectful of its subjects but also to find or create an inner truth about them, rather than sensationalize or shame them. Society at large treats celebrity pairings as public commodities meant for the consumption of all, exploring and poking at the cracks in their relationships until the guts of Why They’re Together or Not fall out for us to feast on.

  After all, every issue of People magazine in the last ten years has featured suppositions about celebrities’ home lives, “Are They/Aren’t They?” photo essays about alleged
couples, and self-reflection reassurances that “Stars Are Just Like You!” The breathless speculation required to ship, say, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson or Niall Horan/Demi Lovato or Zayn Malik/Perrie Edwards is a cue taken and a behavior learned from that same media coverage. But it’s also more than that. In a way, writers of RPF are attempting to humanize celebrities, rather than dehumanize them. Instead of saying that Celebrities Are Just Like You!, RPF aims to show it.

  RPF has existed for as long as there have been celebrities. Any media “based on a true story!” is RPF. Any historical fiction narrative that co-opts a real person or real group is RPF. Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar is RPF, and reflects reality just as accurately as the better and more lovingly, carefully written internet RPF today: virtually not at all. The names remain—Julius Caesar, Mark Antony—as do certain simplified traits, the archetypal roles they play. In lieu of Actual Julius Caesar and Actual Mark Antony, we get AU!Caesar and an AU!Antony in a simpler, more dramatic narrative.

  An increasingly connected world—particularly via Twitter—has changed the lens through which “real” history, and real people, are viewed. Historians work by interweaving primary documents to create their version of the truth—historiography being, essentially, a larger framework of Humanity Fanon—and RPF writers do the same. With every new piece of evidence, every day, every interview, every tweet, the canon evolves and changes. Most fans can and will find a workaround for any and every new primary document to fit it into their preferred fanon. In some cases, this requires Steven Moffat–esque levels of plot twists and conspiracy theories, which is often one of the main causes of discord within RPF fandoms (particularly One Direction). This process of remediation is not in itself a bad thing, but when people forget that they are, in fact, creating their canon themselves, they are failing RPF’s most basic tenet . . .

  That it is Real Person Fiction.

  There is no way to know, or even pretend, that RPF is reality. There is no guarantee—or even any desire for one on the part of most reader-writers—that the contents of an RPF fic are any closer to “canon” than a traditional fanfiction about something that happened off page in The Hunger Games between characters Katniss never even named. Instead, RPF seeks, like all other fanfiction, to pose hypothetical answers to questions posed by their media.

  What happens when a band walks offstage?

  What is Niall Horan like at home?

  Would Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson be happy together, and just how messy was their apartment after that New Year’s Eve party?

  Who is Zayn Malik when nobody is watching? Is Liam Payne really a grown man afraid of spoons?

  And how exactly did One Direction decide that playing Real Life Fruit Ninja on a moving bus was a good idea?

  Brad Bell is today best known as “Cheeks,” the internet persona that also inspired his character on Husbands, the gay-marriage sitcom he cocreated and cowrites with Jane Espenson. Before Brad was a cheeky fictional husband, however, he was a boyfriend in real life who also (along with his then-partner, Adam) had a flair for the theatrical. Together, they created a kind of portmanteau performance of coupledom, known in the party scene as “Bradam.” Neither one was famous—yet. Long after they’d broken up, when one became far better known and, suddenly, so did their relationship, the kind of campy photo ops they’d once loved were now splashed all over major media outlets and threatened to drag down a career. Then, fanfic found and embraced this relationship—as fan writers do—from a variety of angles.

  Brad here reflects on stories told about his life—by himself, by the media, and by fans—and considers the different meanings each has found in telling them.

  #BradamForever

  Brad Bell

  In one sense, the mashing up of two names is simply a manifestation of humanity’s timeless admiration of partnership. However, the celebration of Bradam, both pre- and post-fame, wasn’t just about a title. Bradam was born because two men fell in love, not just with each other but with the notion that, as a unit, they could conquer the world. As is often the case, that didn’t come to fruition. For that very reason it makes perfect sense for Bradam to live on in fiction rather than reality. Bradam continues because people are drawn to the magic of a charismatic couple of men fearlessly showing the world that they’re madly in love. This is the nonfic story of how Bradam went from IRL to RLF . . .

  February 2005: Brad closed the door behind him and flopped onto the bed next to Adam. They’d been a solid item for just two months, so sharing even the most mundane details at the end of their day still seemed funny and wonderful. After a few minutes of talking about nothing in particular, Brad propped his head on his hand and looked at Adam.

  “You know,” Brad said with a gleeful grin, “when we’re famous, our celebrity couple nickname’ll be ‘Bradam.’”

  Adam was lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling, when his face lit up with a smile. “Ha! Bradam!”

  Adam’s reaction was a bit of a relief for Brad, as he was unsure if assigning a celebrity couple nickname, no matter how playfully, would be too . . . much . . . this early in their relationship.

  “Know what I like about it?” Adam began.

  Brad offered, “That it’s got both our full names?”

  “Exactly! Brad. Adam. Bradam.” Adam let out another hearty laugh and looked at Brad. “I love it.”

  As two months became two years, the name became favored among Brad and Adam’s circle of friends. Party-hopping hipsters would cheerfully proclaim, “Bradam wins best dressed again tonight!” Text message invites to parties inquired about “Bradam’s availability for a cameo this evening.” It was a cheeky label, in the spirit of glamorous whimsy. Neither Brad nor Adam realized the name’s future significance at the time.

  The summer of 2007 found the couple in Lake Tahoe, decompressing after a week at Burning Man. They hadn’t anticipated the cluster of college kids who had invaded the lake, with no other intent than to get rowdy. At first, the chaos of teenage beachgoers was difficult to drown out, but before long, the frat boys in board shorts who had clotted the shoreline disappeared, and the two lovers could see only each other.

  Until, that is, a high-pitched “OHMIGOD!” pulled Brad and Adam back to the beachside beer-fest taking place around them. They looked to see two girls, maybe sixteen, eyes wide in awe. “Are you guys, like . . . boyfriends?” the girls asked excitedly.

  Brad and Adam exchanged a glance. Had the two girls seemed disdainful or disgusted, it would’ve been a more familiar scenario; judgment from the general public was nothing new. Instead, Brad and Adam sensed these were admirers, apparently fascinated by such an exotic sighting.

  Brad responded, “Um. . .yeah.”

  Piercing squeals cut through the air, drawing eyes from even the most distracted partiers nearby.

  “Would you guys, like . . . kiss?” said the other girl, her hands clasped in front of her chest with giddy anticipation.

  “Um . . . okay.” The boys shared a brief, chaste peck, which conjured a long, “Awwwwww!”

  “You guys are so cute! Thank you!” With that, the girls were off, stealing a few last looks as they walked away.

  Brad looked to Adam. “That’s a first.”

  Adam slid his arm around Brad’s waist. “We have fans!”

  As time progressed, both men had grown more and more into themselves, which also meant they’d become less and less compatible with each other. Their parting was painful, like any breakup, but by the end of 2008, they’d found their footing as lifelong friends. Along with their relationship, the reality of their individual lives had also taken a venture into the surreal. Adam’s participation in America’s top singing competition made him a household name—let’s call him an idol—overnight. Brad had begun producing satire in a promising start to a career as a writer and performer. Both were dating other people and, though they supported each other with great affection and loyalty, Bradam was only a memory. Then, in March 2009, Bradam was resurrec
ted in a way neither one of them could’ve ever imagined.

  “It’s finally happened” was how Adam’s voicemail to Brad began. “We’re the Velvet Goldmine.”

  When Brad called Adam back, he got the details. “Apparently, every tongue-sucking shot ever taken of us has been discovered and picked up by the blogs. They’re everywhere.” At the time, “everywhere” meant gossip columns. Within weeks, “everywhere” became late-night talk shows, Bill O’Reilly, Rolling Stone, US Weekly, and Oprah Winfrey. There were false accusations that Brad had leaked the photos in search of his own fifteen minutes of fame. That stung, but Brad was never one to dwell on what others thought of him. This attitude also came in handy whenever strangers would look at Brad sympathetically, assuming he interpreted Adam’s success to mean that Brad had somehow failed. It was frustrating, but fleeting. What was most upsetting for Brad was that some of the happiest moments of his life were being portrayed as sins. Their proud, photographic declarations of love for each other were being depicted as shameful transgressions. What was a time of blithe romance had been mangled into a colossal headache that threatened the potential of Adam’s future . . . into a scandal that would be best forgotten.

  That is, until a Google Alert brought a new world to Brad’s attention: fanfiction. Entertained by the Bradam fics that were popping up online, many of Brad’s friends would ask, “Isn’t it creepy? These people don’t know you and they’re . . . I mean, like, you’re a real person.” Statements like this are still common.

  However, Brad didn’t find the fanfic creepy. Bradam fic meant that the cherished time he had spent with Adam wouldn’t remain a scarlet letter. Bradam had taken on a new incarnation, resurrected by people who connected to the freedom, boldness, and adventure their union represented.

 

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