Ephemera, or Where the Author Lets His Geek Flag Fly ...
In the brief moment when I was pondering how to break into writing for television, I wrote two Buffy the Vampire Slayer spec scripts (which I seem to not have copies of, if anyone happens to have one) and one for Smallville (which I actually still have.) Although it lead me absolutely nowhere in the TV writing business, one supposes this is, in its way, a semilegitamate way to play with other people's toys, as one has to write these things if one wants to work in television.
Less legitimately, I have written four Buffy the Vampire Slayer fan fictions, not one of which involves a forbidden love between Xander and Spike. I wrote them for all the usual reasons one writes anything: I was still less-than-confident with fiction, and figuring out how it all worked, and this seemed a good way to find my own voice while, again, playing with other people's toys. And I had stories in my head, which is really where any sort of writing starts. They were in my head, and wanted to get out. So there you are. To a large degree, I had internalized these characters to the point where I wanted to tell my own stories involving them. Still do, from time to time, if I'm completely honest.
Of course, even further down the legitimacy chain, I have, for most of my life, ben involved in more table top and online role playing games than I can recall. Dungeons & Dragons, yes, put also games set in Marvel, DC, Buffy and Lovecraft universe, as well as more I'm imply not recalling, I'm sure. (I recall an Indiana Jones role playing game many decades ago, which I hated almost instantly.)
Clicking back even further, I used to make up stories with my action figures when I was a kid, teaming up heroes in villains from different stories into ever-more-convoluted adventures, usually involving Godzilla, has I had the giant toy, and usually with Boba Fett being the leader of the bad guys. (What power Boba had on the power of youth's minds is beyond me now. He really doesn't do much in the Star Wars films. But somehow, he's awesome beyond words.)
All of these are so far from the canon of their respective parent stories that they almost don't merit mentioning, except to say that it seems, when a story settles in our bones, particularly when we're young, it seems the most natural thing on Earth to want to tell our own versions of that story. It's what we did in caves back when we were huddling against the elements and darkness, and it's that same instinct that kept fairy tales alive before Grimm and the rest got ahold of them. That we now have media to tell these stories for us doesn't much make a difference. If anything, it probably feeds the impulse, whether it be as innocent as kids dressing up as Iron Man and Batman for Halloween, or adults writing odd bits about Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy doing unspeakable things to one another. The impulse is to live inside our stories, to become part of them. To keep them alive.
Certainly, the invisible hand of capitalism does its part, although often for cynical reasons. Media corporations, after all, are invested in keeping their brands alive. A comic book becomes a film, and then a video game and novelization, and hell, maybe a Broadway musical. All authorized, all above board. But a kid plays with his (authorized!) Spider-Man action figure and tells his own story, about Spidey battling Boba Fett (who is awesome) which has nothing to do with canon and, indeed, probably doesn't even make much sense, and you know what? That's part of the polarity that keeps the story alive, in its own way as important as what the corporations shill. Because, ultimately, that's the space where we begin to see where these things really matter.
Less legitimately, I have written four Buffy the Vampire Slayer fan fictions, not one of which involves a forbidden love between Xander and Spike. I wrote them for all the usual reasons one writes anything: I was still less-than-confident with fiction, and figuring out how it all worked, and this seemed a good way to find my own voice while, again, playing with other people's toys. And I had stories in my head, which is really where any sort of writing starts. They were in my head, and wanted to get out. So there you are. To a large degree, I had internalized these characters to the point where I wanted to tell my own stories involving them. Still do, from time to time, if I'm completely honest.
Of course, even further down the legitimacy chain, I have, for most of my life, ben involved in more table top and online role playing games than I can recall. Dungeons & Dragons, yes, put also games set in Marvel, DC, Buffy and Lovecraft universe, as well as more I'm imply not recalling, I'm sure. (I recall an Indiana Jones role playing game many decades ago, which I hated almost instantly.)
Clicking back even further, I used to make up stories with my action figures when I was a kid, teaming up heroes in villains from different stories into ever-more-convoluted adventures, usually involving Godzilla, has I had the giant toy, and usually with Boba Fett being the leader of the bad guys. (What power Boba had on the power of youth's minds is beyond me now. He really doesn't do much in the Star Wars films. But somehow, he's awesome beyond words.)
All of these are so far from the canon of their respective parent stories that they almost don't merit mentioning, except to say that it seems, when a story settles in our bones, particularly when we're young, it seems the most natural thing on Earth to want to tell our own versions of that story. It's what we did in caves back when we were huddling against the elements and darkness, and it's that same instinct that kept fairy tales alive before Grimm and the rest got ahold of them. That we now have media to tell these stories for us doesn't much make a difference. If anything, it probably feeds the impulse, whether it be as innocent as kids dressing up as Iron Man and Batman for Halloween, or adults writing odd bits about Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy doing unspeakable things to one another. The impulse is to live inside our stories, to become part of them. To keep them alive.
Certainly, the invisible hand of capitalism does its part, although often for cynical reasons. Media corporations, after all, are invested in keeping their brands alive. A comic book becomes a film, and then a video game and novelization, and hell, maybe a Broadway musical. All authorized, all above board. But a kid plays with his (authorized!) Spider-Man action figure and tells his own story, about Spidey battling Boba Fett (who is awesome) which has nothing to do with canon and, indeed, probably doesn't even make much sense, and you know what? That's part of the polarity that keeps the story alive, in its own way as important as what the corporations shill. Because, ultimately, that's the space where we begin to see where these things really matter.
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