Why I'm Not Going to Stop Writing Fanfiction

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She invades his senses first.

A sea of jewelled tones now drab against the sunset of chestnut curls as she glides past, laughing among the students with crinkles in her eyes. The light likes to catch on the copper undertones of her hair and the flecks of gold in her irises. Almost as much as the older students who flock to that charismatic performance.

If his attention is stolen, it’s due to that bark of laughter, like symphonic brass clambering for the solo. God, he never knew it was possible to laugh so much. The sound reverberates throughout the corridors, so he knows she’s coming. Like a kitten collar, or a war trumpet. It’s brash yet harmonious, matching the cool titters of the maths teacher, who she often walks with arm-in-arm.

*The above is an excerpt from a creative writing exercise to try and write in all five senses. An exercise that Senlinyu had actually recommended. It has some of my favorite lines that I've written. I've adapted it slightly to serve as "an original."

I started writing at 14/15 years old after I discovered online RPG forums when searching for any details of the upcoming Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix book. Honestly, it was life-changing. It was very bad at first, one-liners posted every other day like "So and So walked into the room." But eventually, I learned how to write descriptive passages, how to develop characters, and how to tailor the dialogue to each character I played.

Funnily enough, I first played as Draco Malfoy. I think I had an easier time with male voices because I didn't have the tendency to veer into writing my own voice and treating my character like an avatar.

The Commodification of Dramione Fanfiction

After that, and throughout high school and college, I dabbled in short story writing, poetry, and screenwriting—on my own and through classes for all three. I submitted some of my poetry to my college publication.

[Sidenote that I actually majored in Professional/Technical Writer, which I truly love, but it is very different from creative writing. It's made me a hell of an editor though. Double sidenote: Don't check this stream-of-consciousness post for grammar mistakes].

But despite the fact that I was constantly writing in some capacity, I lacked a real commitment to writing methodology. None of those classes ever discussed the real "how to write," nor did I learn anything about plotting and structure. I also naively believed that one just writes when inspired to, as if waiting for that "a-ha" moment of genius to strike me while I was living my life, forcing me to sit down and pen a masterpiece upon that single thought.

Likewise, I heard about Stephen King's methods, arguing that one must commit oneself to writing like an athlete training for an event: sitting down every single day to write and not letting up until you have X number of words. I didn't have such willpower.

Those moments of inspiration came few and far between, and I lost the momentum of writing, though never the need to create. I started a horror blog in 2015, then a podcast in 2017, and when I re-discovered fanfiction in 2021, I dabbled in fanfiction audiobook editing. All of those hobbies were an avoidance of what I really was too scared to be doing: writing creatively.

I told my husband sometime in 2018 that I'd realized that I 1) would never be a writer and 2) I wasn't very good at it. I didn't have the drive to make either a reality. And by not writing, I didn't have to face the reality of #2.

Until fanfiction came along.

In 2021, I had a thought. "I really want to see what happens if Hermione does X," and at first that thought led to "I wish somebody would write it," but then I realized I…could…be…that…person.

Most importantly, I'd had the biggest (and stupidest) epiphany during one of the many late-night wake-ups for my first baby. See, she was a terrible sleeper and would require me to rock her while standing and holding her for up to two hours at a time at night. It was exhausting, and I couldn't really do anything else but listen to podcasts or daydream.

I actually daydream a lot. I'm daydreaming right now as I type this. I've always been this way, which is why I was a terrible listener in class. But in many of my daydreams, I was concocting complicated (and very self-indulgent) storylines and then hitting the stop and rewind button because something had gotten messed up and I needed to fix it. And it never occurred to me until then that what I was doing was story-plotting.

I told you. Stupid.

But now all of those times where I sat myself down to stare at a blank page, expecting myself to plot, now seemed like such a waste of time. I don't thrive in plotting while wanting to plot. I thrive when I'm doing menial tasks. Honestly, the shower is the best place. I've written (in my head) so much character dialogue in the shower and then hurriedly written it down when I get out.

So, that's how I started writing — really writing.

Plotting

I mostly pantsed my first story. If you're unfamiliar with the terms plotter versus pantser, plotter means that you pre-plan a story, and pantser just means that you create the narrative as you go. It was rather exciting that way. I'd have a general outline for a chapter and just start writing; eventually, characters would say things I didn't mean them to say — it just came out. I built side arcs and ended up extending what was supposed to be a short story into a 100k+ word fic.

I'm currently working on two work in progress (WIP) fics: one a fully plotted psychological thriller fic and the other a full pantsing historical, character study fic (I don't even know if that's the proper usage of the term, but I hope so).

The beauty of fanfiction is that you have a universe that's already created for you. I don't have to worry about worldbuilding and history building prior to writing my story. I have the foundation needed to tell the story that I want to tell.

Character

Like worldbuilding, original character building was difficult for me, and often stopped me from writing. I wasn't able to work on my writing craft because I'd be locked down trying to figure out the characters first.

But fanfiction provided me with a foundation for those characters, and I discovered that I love character writing. Although I've mentioned Dramione here and in my previous post, I actually much prefer writing a rare pair (definition: A pairing that has less than X number of fics [i.e., is not popular]), because it unlocks even greater potential for expanding a character.

Even popular characters had many ways to be developed, focusing on certain personality traits and how they'd be affected by trauma or how they would react if thrown into certain situations.

I love trying to find a character's voice and developing that into something distinctive in their dialogue and in their narration. And I really, really love a side character.

Genre

This was a big one for me. Fanfiction gravitates towards romance, so that's definitely been a big focus of my writing in this era. However, that first fic, along with many others that I've written, was Humor.

I'd spent so much of my efforts during my search for a creative writing bone trying to do Drama and Horror that I suddenly found that I had a real knack for comedic writing—that it just came naturally to me. That's not to say that I don't still want to write horror and drama.

In fact, I've also written some horror fanfic.

Which is another reason why I've loved writing fanfic so much — it's allowed me to dabble in a range of genres. Some of which (like certain romance sub-types), I decided were not for me.

Writing Craft

I've found that dialogue comes easily to me. In fact, when I'm stuck with a scene, I move to write the dialogue first, like a skeleton outline, then fill that in with narration (hard) and descriptive passages (worse). I think I struggle with descriptive passages the most, which is why I engaged in that creative writing exercise at the top.

What I was really missing during my early writing years and those classes was a writing group. In these fanfiction spaces, I've met some of the greatest women who are wonderful writers, and I've learned so much from them.

It was one of these ladies who shared a simple formula for sex scene writing for beginners (remember, it's romance): [DIALOGUE] + [ACTION-DESCRIPTIVE PASSAGE] + [NARRATION OF PHYSICAL/EMOTIONAL AFFECTATION]

Just mix those up in varying ways.

That formula could probably work for action writing, too, but I've yet to try it. I do want to write an action scene eventually.

That's why I'm going to continue writing fanfiction. I want to learn so much more in a space that allows me to do so and with supportive and earnest readers who engage through comments and discussions.

Do I still want to write original fiction? Maybe, eventually. But I feel more equipped now to give it a try if I want to.

Below is a little more of an excerpt from that fic from the top.

FYI, despite my mention of Draco/Hermione (Dramione), this is not a Dramione piece. Any guesses who is narrating?

His quarters are quaint. There’s no extravagance in its decor or lavish toiletries to poison the airwaves.

There is, he admits, a musty quality to the life he’s laid out in neat quadrants in that en suite. An addition of his own. Panelled bookcases that surround the entire room, hiding the aged stone behind. His room is a quilt of book spines — some decrepit and frayed, others crisp and untouched. But the room — his life — smells of distilled dust and the oil of fingerprints on salty pages and ink spelling out his most painful secrets.

She leaves rather abruptly, with some excuse floating out of her in the same way that her small talk and laughter still holds her place in their world. And that’s when he catches the remnants of her most pernicious attribute.

Because as much as he’s done to create sanctity to his space, she’s there with florals that beckon and sweets that charm.

Her scent.

That’s the worst of it.

The perfumes he’s avoided. The memories it all brings back of those more fortunate than himself.

Of the girls that grew up too fast.

And mothers that were never there to visit.

And he can’t stop thinking about the way she looked so stricken by his unsure acceptance of her gift. Her wariness around him. That cautious dip of her chin and aversion of her eyes in the corridor.

There’s something more to her, he knows.

And he intends to find it out.

He follows the path, that effluvium that trails from his office down the corridor. Like a basset hound following the scent of rabbit, he intends to ensnare her in his jaws and skin her truths.

He thinks he sees her hair bounding around corners and edging the shadows of dark corners, but it’s only a student tangled in different webs of their own. And he’s on the path again, finding the little crumbs of jasmine and pepper jelly that leads him up the stairs and to her own office.

It’s a stark contrast to his own. Golds and reds and browns that warm the walls. The stone isn’t hidden. It’s celebrated, swaddled in tapestries with a Lady-Godivian figure in shining armour as men whisper behind the palms of their hands. On another, a depiction of a community serving their loved ones through food and laughter and dancing and singing.

She has a book collection that rivals his own, though the books are scattered about a lone bookcase, filled to the brim, and stacks upon stacks that adorn the tables and her desk like alternative centrepieces — the brocade linen covers standing in a floral arrangement.

The sight is ghastly. He thinks that she would be the type to hold more care for books and things.

Instead, the stacks litter the floor, coats and personal belongings ignore the large armoire that stands in the corner, her house plants are dying. But he can imagine how she’s too busy to water them.

Her office may be a mess but her schedule isn’t. It’s filled to the brim with classes, preparatory sessions, study clubs for topics beyond her own, a literary club, and various social activities with the other teachers. Everyone’s calendar is filled with her.

And yet, she’s avoided him all the while. Up until that very day. There must be some reason.

1. Preview photo from Creative Commons