My literary vault for poems, reviews and other miscellaneous articles. If you like what you read, likes, comments and subscribers are always welcome.
Category: Various Writings
Miscellaneous writings that don’t fit into the other categories. These include reflections, prose, essays, and articles. If I begin writing more of these, I might organize them into their own categories. But for now, they stay here.
While Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is one of those books I would not have picked up on my own time outside of my literature classes, I find myself quite thankful that I did. Over the course of two days, I have become attached to this book in the way that one can only grow attached to a book they would normally not read – namely, through close-analyzing the book in order to write a graded essay.
I wrote this article to comment on an important notion that I noticed in the book. In Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, the titular Gawain accepts a potential life-or-death challenge set by the Green Knight. Long story short, although he fails the challenge, he comes clean about his flaws as an individual, and admits his donning of a green girdle that granted him invincibility. However, instead of condemning him for his failure, both the Green Knight and the House of Arthur (where Gawain serves as a knight) venerate him as a hero, in spite of knowing that he has failed to live up to the standards of chivalry that dominate knight culture. Gawain then decides to wear the green girdle forever as a symbol of his human weakness and fallibility. In turn, the knights at the House of Arthur adopt the practice of wearing a green sash in honour of Gawain, symbolizing their open integration of their humility as imperfect individuals into their chivalric code of honour.
What I liked about this story was that the narrative makes it very clear that Gawain genuinely fails in his quest. There isn’t some moment where Gawain miraculously wins the challenge despite his initial stumbles in his trial. Usually in a hero’s journey, the hero overcomes both the internal and external obstacles in their way, and attains their unadulterated glory at the end of the story. But Gawain doesn’t succeed in any of that. It’s rare to see a protagonist fail so momentously in his goals and yet still be exalted as a hero and a good person, even when he admits his weaknesses and defeat. And I really appreciate that, because we, as humans, are imperfect, fallible creatures. In life, we will inevitably make mistakes or fall short of expectations due to our own limitations or shortcomings.
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight acknowledges this notion of accepting one’s failures, and shows that we don’t always have to shoot for the moon. Rather, we can concede our limitations and work around them – even while working towards maximizing our potential. Gawain’s donning of the green girdle as a symbol of his flaws and the knights’ adoption of the green sash represent how we should embrace humility and vulnerability, and not be afraid to put these values on display for both ourselves and the world. Rather than creating a world where people are scared to make mistakes, we should strive towards building one where everyone can air their shortcomings and actively learn from them, without being unreasonably lambasted for them. After all, our imperfections and flaws are a big part of what makes us human, rather than gods or saints.
Overall, I think that close-analyzing this book and its themes of chivalry and humility have made me appreciate this book more than I thought I would. With its lively plot, energetic pace and compelling protagonist, I’d say that Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is actually a really good book (in spite of some of its sexist themes, unfortunately). If you want to check it out, I recommend the Simon Armitage translation, which is the one I am studying at the time of writing this article.
Encanto is probably one of Disney’s greatest achievements so far, and I want to thank everybody who worked on this movie and made it as enchanting as it is. While this is an animated movie for kids, I think that anybody of any age can relate to the profound issues that it covers, such as gifted child syndrome, unrealistic expectations and intergenerational trauma. However, since many other writers have already covered most of these issues in their own comprehensive and interesting ways, I’d like to talk about two other aspects of the film here. The first one is how Encanto is basically an anti-chosen one narrative. And the second is how Encanto cleverly and overtly avoids the insidious trope of victim blaming.
In countless adventure-themed stories we’ve seen in genres like fantasy or sci-fi, the protagonist is the protagonist (i.e. the “Chosen One”) because they have some sort of magical power, or special heritage, or particular talent etc. This isn’t necessarily a bad trope, but its ubiquity is what makes it a little cliché. Encanto, on the other hand, makes it very clear that our protagonist, Mirabel, is not special in the conventional sense. In fact, she’s the only one in her family without a magical gift. And because of that, she feels left out and insecure. But then, the narrative shows her dealing with that insecurity, and eventually finding her place in the world (or at least, her family). All without her getting some sort of magical gift in the end. In the end, she remains powerless – albeit magically so. On the contrary, she and the rest of her family (especially Abuela) have finally accepted her for who she truly is – without her needing to change any integral part of herself. And I think that’s beautiful.
Sure, you could argue that Mirabel was kind of the “chosen one” in a way, because she appeared in Bruno’s vision as the one who would either make or break the family and its magic. But in my opinion, what differentiates this from the generic “chosen one” narrative is that Mirabel was the one to fulfill the prophecy in spite of her lack of any generic “chosen one” traits. Without exerting any significant power or influence whatsover, she was the one who ended up making the family realize that they needed to fix their fractured dynamics.
How does she do this? Look at “Surface Pressure”, “What Else Can I Do?”, Abuela and Mirabel’s reconciliation and the ending of “All Of You” where the family sings about Mirabel. These scenes show that Mirabel was able to heal her family simply by making Luisa, then Isabela, and most importantly, Abuela (and by extension, the rest of the family) realize that they’re striving towards unattainable standards of perfection, and covering up their insecurities instead of addressing them. Not by having to “prove her worth” or by achieving some monumental success that makes everyone respect her. And I think that’s a really important message to send to anyone who has ever felt like Mirabel. No matter how special other people may seem, you are still inherently worthy and valuable as an individual.
And what’s even better than this message is that Encanto also makes it very clear that Mirabel is not at fault. There’s no victim blaming directed towards her on the narrative’s part. I was really, really impressed with this aspect of the movie, especially since Disney has an unfortunate history of victim blaming. In Brave, Merida ends up being the one who is made to fix her wrongdoings when she was just a young girl who didn’t want to get married, and whose mother (Elinor) was completely failing to listen to her and validate her, despite being the adult in their relationship. In Coco, Miguel’s grandmother smashes his guitar, and his great-great grandmother tries to force him to stop playing music. Neither of them actually apologise to him for denouncing his passions out of their own inability to move past their own issues that they should have garnered the maturity to address as adults (just like Elinor). In Raya and the Last Dragon, Raya was the one who was told to take the first step to trust again, even though Namaari was the one who betrayed her and incited her trust issues. (I actually did a review on the movie’s flawed presentation of trust here). And finally, in Wreck-it Ralph, Ralph is treated awfully for no good reason aside from discrimination against him based on his role in a programmed game that the other characters know they are playing, so he goes off to prove his worth, and only after he saves the entire arcade is he finally appreciated as a person. We do not see anyone explicitly apologize to him for treating him badly. (This movie, especially with the character of Gene who was arguably the most cruel to Ralph is the one that infuriated me the most out of the all the movies I mentioned here. Just look at how Gene shoots down Ralph when the latter expresses his desire to be treated equally here. And then, look at how Gene once again makes Ralph feel like the bad guy for wanting acceptance here.)
Is someone a bad person for despising or rebelling against others who invalidated their identity? And why should they have to prove their worth as a person rather than show it as and when they please, and to whom they want to? I can’t even begin to list the extent of the potential harm that could be done to childrens’ psyches when they absorb and internalize these messages in popular films where they are the target audience. But anyway, coming back to my earlier point on victim blaming, Encanto does none of that. Abuela, the one who kindled the family’s toxic dynamics actually sincerely apologizes to Mirabel without any prior prompting, and they have a whole reconciliation after the former openly admits her wrongdoings (“We are broken because of me.”). The story thus ensures that Abuela and the rest of the family finally learn to appreciate Mirabel for who she is as a unique individual – even if she is different from them – without her having to pull off some grand scheme to “redeem” or “prove” herself unnecessarily. Not to mention how Mirabel’s parents never stopped loving her for who she was right from the start of the movie (“You have nothing to prove!”) And I am so grateful for that.
Overall, I think that Encanto is an awesome movie for giving us these messages alongside many other great things like its characters, emotional weight and commentary on issues that need to be discussed more frequently and openly. I really hope that Disney will continue to put out more well-rounded movies with valuable moral lessons like this one.
P.S: If anyone out there writes a new article on the toxic family dynamics or the unhealthy expectations running through the family Madrigal, I think a great title for the article would be We Don’t Talk About The Cracks inOur Casita.
P.P.S: If you’d like to find out more about how Encanto’s message outshines Raya and the Last Dragon‘s flawed message on trust, here’s a really good video comparing the two movies.
When I saw Raya and the Last Dragon in theatres earlier this year, I remember leaving the cinema completely awestruck by the beautiful worldbuilding, the fast-paced action, and the chemistry between all the characters – particularly that between Raya and Namaari. What I found really memorable, however, was the message about trust that Disney incorporated into it, and how important it was to “take the first step” in a world broken by those who failed to believe in others. However, after a few weeks when I started seeing other people’s opinions about the show, I began to realize the flaws in its core message, and started thinking about how it could have been more realistic, while still remaining appealing to and digestible enough for kids.
In the movie, Sisu, the wonderfully pure-hearted, optimistic dragon encourages Raya to try to take the first step when it comes to trusting others – even people like Namaari, who essentially stabbed Raya in the back and caused the Druun to be unleashed on the world. Eventually, Raya does trust Namaari – albeit at an extremely high cost that could have gone badly in many cases. Fortunately, Namaari decides to make the right choice, even though she could have taken the easy way out without facing any consequences. In the end, because Raya took the initiative to trust her enemy, Namaari eventually chose to trust her back, and the Druun are vanquished.
Despite this show’s happy ending, the harsh truth is, sometimes in real life, it doesn’t always pay to be unconditionally altruistic (like what Sisu believes) – especially when dealing with people who are willing to take advantage of your kindness. And that’s why this movie ends up coming off as too unrealistic or utopic for some, because it seems to imply that the victims of somebody’s lack of trust (like Raya herself) should be the ones who take the initiative to reach out to others, especially those who hurt them in the first place (that is, Namaari). Raya was clearly traumatized by her father’s “death”, and she also possessed major trust issues because of Namaari’s betrayal. I think she can be excused if she was extremely hesitant to trust the exact person who caused her pretty much all of this grief, because trust is not something that can be put back together easily once it’s been broken.
Moreover, sometimes in these kinds of scenarios, we have to play the “bad guy” for the sake of self-preservation. Sometimes, people like Namaari have to be taken at face value, and we shouldn’t have to go the extra mile to extend our kindness to them, because if we do, we may end up like Sisu (even though she was brought back to life at the end, thankfully). Not to mention how people like Namaari may not reform (or at least make the right decision) as fast as she did by the end of the movie.
As pessimistic as this article is beginning to sound, I like to consider myself a realistic optimist. I’d love to live in a world where everybody always tried their best to communicate effectively and cooperate with one another. At the same time, however, I’m aware that none of us are saints or angels. Some of us may want to reap as many benefits for ourselves as possible, regardless of any short-term or long-term side effects that may occur because of this. And sometimes, the more gullible or naïve amongst us may be unfairly taken advantage of by the cheaters of the world.
As such, in real-life, there will be times when we need to keep our guard up to ensure that we do not misplace our trust and cause ourselves a great loss, like Sisu did. This can help us predict if the situation or people we are dealing with are worth setting aside our self-interest, or if we need to sacrifice some goodwill in order to achieve the best possible outcome for ourselves. Basically, since morality in real-life is never black and white, we need to consistently work towards striking a balance between both our individual well-being and that of others – even if it means that we need to forgo taking the first step to reach out to those who wronged us.
Now, I’m sure Disney had good intentions incorporating this message into their movie, because, after all, this movie is for kids, and kids need to be reassured there is still some goodness and hope in this world, despite the bad things that others may do. To put it simply, “if you never give kids hope for a better world, they’ll never try to work toward it” (Blumenfeld, 2016). Additionally, I think Disney also wanted kids to take away the message that they shouldn’t let their generosity or kindness be beaten out of them by the harshness of the world in order to survive, which I found really heartening, since I’ve consumed way too much media where this happens to some characters.
Nevertheless, I feel that Disney could have made an already-good show even better by tweaking their core message to make it a little more realistic. Perhaps they could have showed Namaari regretting betraying Raya, and trying to earn back her trust throughout the movie with Sisu’s help. After all, Raya had a very valid reason to despise Namaari, so Disney could have used this plotline to teach kids that earning back someone’s trust after you’ve deliberately broken it takes a lot of effort and atonement on your behalf.
At the same time, Raya could have been constantly suspicious of Namaari’s motivations, but by the climax of the show, she chooses to trust her after Namaari finally proves to her that she’s worth extending a second chance to. That way, the movie could still have a happy ending. And maybe Sisu could also learn how to be a little more shrewd instead of unconditionally trusting those she isn’t completely familiar with, without having to sacrifice her optimistic, kind-hearted nature.
I’d like to end off with this beautiful quote adapted from the Talmud, which goes:“Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly now, love mercy now, walk humbly now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it”. I think it sums up the notion of trust and kindness really well, because even though we are not obligated to heal a world broken by the irresponsibility or selfishness of others, we should never use this as an excuse to act unreasonably, or let the meanness of others and the seemingly cutthroat nature of the world get to us. In contrast, we should all play our part to cooperate with others as much as possible to help create a world where it actually pays to be kind and good-natured, rather than leaving our society to deteriorate to one where survival of the fittest is key.
In short, Sisu was absolutely right when she told Raya that the world was broken because she didn’t trust anyone. She was just directing this message to the wrong person.
P.S: Here’s a fun little game on the evolution of trust which I played for one of my university modules. I played this game several days after I watched this movie, and even now, the coincidence of learning about trust from two very different sources in less than a week still blows my mind. Also, if you like Zootopia as much as I do, go check out the article in the references, where the author makes a really compelling, well-expressed argument on how Zootopia addresses racism.
When I was first introduced to Flannery O’ Connor and her unique stories, I was shocked at both the dark nature of her narratives, and my reactions to them. After having read several of them for my literature and academic writing modules, I often found myself questioning exactly why I found them so unnerving.
Before I get started, here’s a little background on Flannery O’Connor, for those of you who have never heard of her before (like me at the start of this semester). Flannery O’Connor (1925-1964) was a Southern author who mostly wrote Southern Gothic stories. Her works are characterized by grotesque characters (both appearance- and personality-wise), unfiltered descriptions of violence and ambiguous meanings. Additionally, they also contain religious themes and events that reflect her Roman Catholic faith, as well as numerous undertones of morality, redemption and social issues such as class, disability and religion.
Going into this article, I just want to say that I am not someone who is easily unsettled or disturbed by dark elements such as gore, violence, torment and grotesque details in fiction. I frequently consume young and new adult media that encompass mature themes such as these, and as such, am relatively used to them. However, when I read O’Connor’s stories, I slowly came to realize that there was something radically different from them, something other about them and their dark themes that separated them from fiction that I was used to. After mulling over this topic for a while, I have come to realize that the reason why I find O’Connor’s stories so disturbing is because of how undeniably bleak they are.
To further elaborate on this, I think the omnipresent bleakness of O’Connor’s stories distinguishes her works from other dark media I’ve consumed, because the latter often gives its readers a concrete sense of closure in spite of all the depressing, harrowing themes that it covers. For instance, Throne of Glass (which I did a review for on this blog as well) saw the protagonist, Aelin, go through many, many dark and devastating events, such as losing her first lover, losing her friend, and even being brutally tortured for two months in a myriad of ways to the point where she was almost broken mentally. Yet, the last book in the series, Kingdom of Ash, concludes with a satisfying, happy ending for Aelin, her kingdom, and (most of) her loved ones. I still get chills every time I read that beautiful epilogue, because it’s such a perfect end to such a perfect, intense and riveting series.
In contrast, O’Connor almost never provides straightforward and clearly-defined explanations, triumphs, or character arcs in her works. Almost none of her stories have genuinely happy endings. Rather, both her narratives and characters carry ambivalent tones that shroud the story’s meaning and symbolism in mystery. Her main characters are not only flawed in their ideologies and worldviews, but are also made to suffer and question their fates for some unspecified purpose with little to no reprieve, even at the story’s denouement. As Jay Watson puts it:
Every O’Connor narrative turns upon an interior rupture that manifests itself in profound psychological – and often physical – violence. Her protagonists suffer bodily penetration and breakdown: they are shot, stabbed, drowned, infected, felled by heart attacks and strokes, crushed by farm equipment, gored by a bull. Their homes, farms, and families are overrun by alien forces that they are powerless to stop. They are insulted, humiliated, made laughing-stocks, victimized by comic uncrownings and the scouring, unmasking function of language…
Jay Watson, Flannery O’Connor
This is not to say there’s no hope or optimism present in O’Connor’s stories, however. On the contrary, a close reading of her stories (once you get over their shocking aspects) will reveal that O’Connor often foreshadows and implies that even the most problematic and unworthy of her characters will be redeemed, often through divine means. However, this promising tone is not easy to catch – especially in the first readthroughs of O’Connor’s stories. From the moment you step into the climax of one of O’Connor’s stories, you instantly experience this sense of dread and the feeling that everything is about to go downhill rapidly. And by the time you finish the story, you are left scouring the text looking for answers as you try to make heads or tails of the despondent spiral of the narrative, and desperately search for some semblance of positivity or hope in the stories – particularly their endings. Sometimes, her stories feel almost empty or unrewarding to read – like stepping off a cliff in a desolate wasteland, although instead of plummeting to the ground, you merely stay suspended in the air, unable to retreat or fall, forced to confront the nothingness of the barren landscape before you.
What I’m trying to emphasize here is that O’Connor’s stories tend to deny you a sense of satisfaction, whether it stems from seeing a morally grey character get a fulfilling redemption arc, or a struggling, sympathetic character obtain the opportunity to get better. This is probably due to the fact that these are short stories, so they may not be as fleshed out or “complete” as novellas or novels. However, the violence and darkness in her stories may sometimes seem pointless, with no clear end goal or meaning to them. This renders you, the reader, unable to discern exactly why O’Connor chooses to include these sepulchral details in her tales, unless you understand exactly how she connects violence and despondency in her tales to the purgation of her characters’ flawed spirits, and their subsequent redemption.
Normally, I tend to avoid stories that come off as torture porn (i.e stories that make characters suffer for the sake of dramatizing the story without having it really add to the story’s plot or the characters’ backgrounds). However, I think what really draws me to O’Connor’s stories is their austere, enigmatic nature. Their somber, no-nonsense narrative style marked with her dark, sardonic humour and dialogue, as well as their underlying themes that are grounded in reality (with the occasional touch of magical realism) are what really enrich them with a diversity of possible meanings and symbolisms.
In conclusion, I feel that one hallmark feature of the majority of O’Connor’s stories is that they are extremely open to vastly different interpretations. In essence, you can read them as mostly optimistic or mostly pessimistic, and you would probably still be right. At the very least, you would have a valid inference of her narratives. That being said, if you haven’t read Flannery O’Connor, I suggest checking out some of her short stories if you really want to understand what I’m talking about. Some stories I recommend are A Good Man is Hard to Find, Revelation, The Lame Shall Enter First and Good Country People. These were the first few stories I read when I was first introduced to O’Connor, and they really helped set the tone for the rest of the stories my modules required me to read.
Reference(s):
Watson, J. (2011). Flannery O’Connor. The Cambridge Companion to American Fiction after 1945 (pp. 207-219). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press
NOTE: I had the sentence “The sun was…rippling waves” saved in my notes for a while and I had no idea where to put it or how to create a story out of it. So I turned it into the start of a description of a sunset instead.
smelled the salty sea air as it blustered past my cheeks,
heard the waves rhythmically crashing against the shoreline,
saw the kids running around, screaming happily,
crouching down, their knees buried in the sand,
making sandcastles, digging holes, pressing wet sand into colourful plastic moulds.
These are carefree, tempting activities,
a rhapsodic expression of a lack of commitments to the daily grind of life.
Yet why do I not feel the urge to crouch down and sculpt bucketfuls of sand into a sand castle,
plant a piddly twig on its peak like a flag on the moon to mark out the culmination of my effort,
or wade into the ocean and submerge my body in the salted water,
feeling the wet sand tumble over my toes and wedge itself in the cracks of my swimsuit?
Have I outgrown these child-like activities?
(I say child-like,
not child-ish,
for the latter expression seems to denigrate these playful, harmless games,
reducing them to no more than immature acts that annoying little children who should be neither seen nor heard partake in.)
Has the thrill of them fallen apart like a sandcastle when assaulted by a stray wave?
Perhaps, but I guess it was inevitable, since I’ve grown up now (almost nineteen years of life behind me),
and being swamped with the stress of emotional, academic, adult responsibilities that drain my naïveté and augment my cynicism,
I prefer the experience of the beach to wash over me gently like a wave as I sit, sedentary, on the sand or on a breakwater,
or cycle the well-worn path at a speed I set for myself, letting the wind whip past my face as I absorb the scenery rushing past me.
Maybe I will pull out my phone, capture some of these precious moments on Instagram,
so that I may share the happiness I feel in those instances with those who happen upon my stories.
Yes, my pace of life (when it comes to having fun, at least) may have slowed since my halcyon childhood,
but they say that you are more likely to recall the memory of an event rather than the actual incident itself,
and so, even as I leave my bedazzled childhood behind,
I do so willingly, knowing that I will treasure the undiluted exhilaration I felt during those years forever.
To the children of now, then, and later,
may you lose your innocence and immaturity,
but never your happiness.
Regardless of the pace at which you do so,
laugh and play forever.
NOTE: This isn’t really a poem. It’s more of me stringing my disjointed thoughts together like a row of fairy lights, and clipping memories like polaroids onto the resulting piece of decoration to explore why my experience of going to the beach (and other childhood activities) has changed over time.
Perhaps the next time I visit the beach, I shall build a sandcastle too.
Whether you’re like me and a Gen Z youth who spends most of their time trawling the Internet and social media for captivating fandom-related works, or someone who prefers to ground their lives in reality via the news or more somber pieces of fiction, you’ve probably heard of a certain type of writing known as fanfiction – fan-created fiction based on exisiting fictional works. Fanfiction is essentially the written testimony of the love that fans of a particular piece of media hold towards it. It is the inscribed proof of the commitment fans hold towards a specific franchise or celebrity, and the creative liberty that they possess when crafting alternative or original scenarios involving said franchise’s or celebrity’s characters and world.
While you might be expecting me to be defending the creation of fanfiction and discussing why authors choose to write it, or explaining why it could possibly be considered a legitimate genre of literature and writing, I won’t be doing that today for two reasons. Firstly, there are plenty of articles online explaining in comprehensive detail why fans write fanfiction. I have put several links at the bottom of my article to a few such articles. However, the general reason as to why people genuinely enjoy writing fanfiction can be perfectly summed up in this quote:
“The whole point of fanfiction…is that you get to play inside somebody else’s universe. Rewrite the rules. Or bend them. (…) You can stay in this world, this world you love, as long as you want, as long as you keep thinking of new stories…”
~ Fangirl (2013) by Rainbow Rowell
Secondly, this article is coming from someone who has never written a single fanfiction in her life, but has read hundreds of fanfictions – ranging from simple 3k-word stories to long, epic sagas of exhilarating adventures and slow-burn romances that spanned over 100k words from various fandoms. So instead of talking about why people write fanfiction, I’ll be telling you why people like me love reading them.
If you’re a fan of a particular franchise or celebrity, and you’ve felt the need to explore more about the possibilities the franchise could have taken had it been set in a different world, or the romance that could potentially bloom between two stars if they somehow possessed feelings for each other, you might have wandered into the boundaries of fanfiction, perhaps on well-known sites such as Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction.net, or Wattpad. There, like industrious weavers at their looms, writers wholeheartedly spin creative tales of their favourite fictional characters or real-world celebrities set in reality, or in alternate universes, where these individuals explore different paths in life created for them by these talented writers and traverse scenarios chock full of angst (distressing or fearful situations), fluff (displays of affection and love), and countless other genres and tropes.
Through reading these fan-created divergences, spin-offs or parallels, it’s easy to achieve a huge sense of unadulterated satisfaction when we see our favourite characters or idols getting what they deserve, or exploring intriguing scenarios that the show could have, or even failed to (one significant, very popular example being gay romances between characters). You may gasp in delight when you see two characters whose intense chemistry always seemed to hint at feelings deeper than mere friendship running unsaid between them finally getting together in a fan-created work, or silently cheer when you see your favourite celebrities entering an alternate universe you are familiar with, be it a coffee shop, a high school or even Hogwarts.
Moreover, when it comes to reading fanfiction, or starting a new book or series, the former may prove to be less mentally draining than the latter, in a way. Perhaps it is because starting a new franchise or novel requires one to make more headspace for new characters, new settings, and new plots. In addition to this, most books and shows require several scenes of exposition of the main characters, their background, their motivations, and the setting of the world in general. If you’re an impatient reader or watcher like me, it can be a long wait getting to the plot and the action sometimes. Not to mention the fact that while some books or shows have intriguing premises, the poor characterization or writing style can drastically lower your interest in that fictional piece of media, and your motivation to see it to the end.
This is where fanfiction comes in – it takes the little flower patch started by the original writers of the work, and diligently cultivates it into a blooming garden bursting with vibrant blossoms in multitudinous shades of colour, a testament to the undying devotion fans hold towards the original writer’s creativity and the work they have published. In short, you can easily skip the exposition needed to introduce you into a potentially intriguing world a writer has painstakingly created, and dive right into a creative premise involving your favourite characters, idols, relationships, or worlds.
Additionally, because of the fact that us readers or watchers of the series have already become so attached to the world and its characters created by the original writers, it’s easy to get more emotionally involved as we follow along on the journey fanfiction writers have laid out for our beloved fictional characters or idols. As these precious individuals whose characters and personalities we are thoroughly fond of fall in love, go on adventures, suffer physical or emotional wounds and find themselves in the end, the majority of us will experience the emotions the fanfiction writer intended us to with the scenes, making for a suspenseful, engaging, tearful or joyous read, and a gratifying experience overall. Personally, I have read fanfiction that has messed with me emotionally, so much that I had to leave that fanfiction alone after reading it, and repeatedly remind myself that those characters I’d been reading about were fine in the world they existed in, and what I’d just read, at the end of the day, remained a fictional piece of writing, no matter how real and raw the emotions it made me feel were.
Naturally, people like me will continue wanting to please (or torment) ourselves with these fictional stories involving our cherished characters or idols, and as such, continue searching for more promising fanfictions to read. Since the possibilities the franchise or idols could have taken are so diverse, there are hundreds of different kinds of fanfictions encompassing various genres, scenarios, and lengths, catering to a wide range of demands from eager fans looking to explore these possibilities. Basically, whether you’re looking for a short, “what-if” scenario that barely exceeds 5,000 words, or a full-scale adventure set in an alternate universe complete with an engaging plot and a blossoming romance that spans 300,000 words, the world of fanfiction is bound to offer dozens of different stories that will satisfy your cravings.
Overall, I think the appeal of fanfiction is that it grants countless fans such as myself of various fandoms across the world an outlet for our overwhelming emotions or feelings about the franchise, or celebrities we are chasing by providing an accessible platform for us to explore different storylines involving our treasured idols or fictional characters. By supplementing the original franchise and launching new premises, the writers of fanfiction and their never-ending creativity provide an even more enjoyable experience in both re-reading or watching the original media, and partaking in the fandom and its related activities.
In short, whether you are a reader or writer of fanfiction, I think we can unanimously agree that it is a unique, precious craft on its own, as it not only helps fulfill the fantasies of fans, but also amplifies the love and endearment they possess towards their celebrities or fictional worlds through these fan-created tales of angst, adventure and love.
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