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bronze_ribbonsVia kirbyfest: Merlin Missy's Your Friends Are Not Watching the Same Show You Are (And That's Okay).
Her Dr. Who/Torchwood examples:
The "fandom as an evil clone of The Potato Salad Theory" postulate:
The description of the Torchwood that half of my friendslist is watching: "Do Not F@&$ With the Teaboy Show." Hee!
Her alternate titles are not only a scream, apparently they're triggered a meme now percolating through TV fandom. (See link to kirby's journal for examples.)
The Potato Salad analogy reminds me that I meant to link to the discussion at Elizabeth Bear's on genre infighting. (Haven't caught up on all the comments yet, but when I first glanced at it, it already included an invocation of Gaudy Night and some are-we-even-looking-at-the-same-part-of-the-elephants stylings.) I found it worth bookmarking for at least two reasons: (1) Blanket dismissal of a subgenre or format in terms of the whole of readerdom is one of my biggest hot buttons - especially if something I tend to write is getting slagged. (E.g., someone saying, "Short romantic fic bores me" is fine - that's specific to that person and their preferences. Someone declaring, "People who post short PG fic are inferior writers" - well, ouch. How am I not supposed to feel hurt or annoyed by that? (I do strive not to take stuff like that personally, but it sometimes stings like hell no matter how grown-up I'm trying to be.)
(2) The world of pro writing/reading has its Potato Salad issues as well. That's useful to remember that when I'm going through an acceptance drought and mourning over my inability to compel billyons and billyons of readers to adore every word I write. *rolls eyes at self*
(2a) An acquaintance once observed that when he finds himself obsessing over his numbers (of readers, rejections, etc.), it tells him he hasn't been writing enough. I've found this useful for coping for my own fits of self-pity.
(2b) I went to a workshop yesterday where the following conversation took place (paraphrased):
Her Dr. Who/Torchwood examples:
In new school Doctor Who fandom, fans are often watching very different shows. Some are watching the "Rose Tyler Show," and are vexed at the continued absence of the lead. Others tuned in late to enjoy the "Martha Jones Show," and were surprised but pleased when their show took over Torchwood for a while. While no one yet seems to be watching the "Donna Noble Show," Dr. Merlin has already observed a large shift among her friends to enjoying the "Ten and Donna Are the New Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant But Could Also Totally Be Karen and Jack From Will and Grace Show," which one can only imagine is hard to fit on the title cards. Still other Who fans have been in the fandom long enough that they're just along for the ride (or else they're still watching the original "Sarah Jane Adventures" and wondering where Harry went).
The "fandom as an evil clone of The Potato Salad Theory" postulate:
To summarize the potato salad theory, fanfiction works for readers because the readers are already coming to the story with enough history and background to enjoy the story without piles of world-building and setup, much like stories that feature historical or mythological characters. We are bringing our own utensils and plates to the picnic, not expecting restaurant service. That's fanfic. When it comes to our source material, we're all bringing very different things to the table, and that's going to affect what we consume.
The description of the Torchwood that half of my friendslist is watching: "Do Not F@&$ With the Teaboy Show." Hee!
Her alternate titles are not only a scream, apparently they're triggered a meme now percolating through TV fandom. (See link to kirby's journal for examples.)
The Potato Salad analogy reminds me that I meant to link to the discussion at Elizabeth Bear's on genre infighting. (Haven't caught up on all the comments yet, but when I first glanced at it, it already included an invocation of Gaudy Night and some are-we-even-looking-at-the-same-part-of-the-elephants stylings.) I found it worth bookmarking for at least two reasons: (1) Blanket dismissal of a subgenre or format in terms of the whole of readerdom is one of my biggest hot buttons - especially if something I tend to write is getting slagged. (E.g., someone saying, "Short romantic fic bores me" is fine - that's specific to that person and their preferences. Someone declaring, "People who post short PG fic are inferior writers" - well, ouch. How am I not supposed to feel hurt or annoyed by that? (I do strive not to take stuff like that personally, but it sometimes stings like hell no matter how grown-up I'm trying to be.)
(2) The world of pro writing/reading has its Potato Salad issues as well. That's useful to remember that when I'm going through an acceptance drought and mourning over my inability to compel billyons and billyons of readers to adore every word I write. *rolls eyes at self*
(2a) An acquaintance once observed that when he finds himself obsessing over his numbers (of readers, rejections, etc.), it tells him he hasn't been writing enough. I've found this useful for coping for my own fits of self-pity.
(2b) I went to a workshop yesterday where the following conversation took place (paraphrased):
Speaker: Let's pretend this pristine dollar bill is a million dollars. If I handed it to you, no strings attached, would you take it?
Audience: Of course.
Speaker: Now, let's say I presented you with a million dollars, but it was as a pile of dirty, crumpled up bills. *crumples up the dollar bill* Would you still take it?
Audience: Yes.
Speaker: Now. Let's say you watched me take a million dollars and kick it around, stomp on it, call it all sorts of names, and then offer it to you. Would you still take it?
Audience: Er.... yes.
Speaker: Why?
Audience: It still has the same value and potential.
Speaker: So do you, no matter what anyone's saying about you, good or bad. Why would you treat yourself any different than a million dollars?
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