To all the Fanfiction Authors out there

We each have our own reasons for why we read or write fanfiction in general, for most of us it’s a creative outlet a way to relive stress and to expand or further stories about characters we already know and love. But even though a good portion of us do it to relieve stress writing fanfiction can be stressful in itself.Mostly due to people who seem to forget that fandom's are supposed to be fun diverse places with many unique interpretations an takes on characters and the worlds they come from . On top of that We don’t get payed for this and most of us my self-included are just doing it for fun and our own entertainment. I know what some of you are thinking .What could possibly be fun about putting something you’re emotionally invested in out onto the internet to be mercilessly shredded and critiqued by countless strangers. Well the reality is usually a little different than that. For starters there’s really not a thousands of anyone, good or bad climbing over each other to review or flame your work and it’s more often than not, only a handful who review at all. Especially if it’s a small fandom you’re writing for. You’ll usually receive a mix of reviews when you do get them. There will be encouraging ones, ones that offer constructive criticism coupled with helpful advice and there will also be ones that can be downright cruel and even hateful. I know those can really hurt and feel discouraging. Don’t let them get to you. Hang in there and definitely don’t go throwing in the towel. Just for a handful of jerks who forgot craps only supposed to come out of their backsides. I recently received one myself that not only accused me of pissing on a beloved fandom, but of being the nail hammered into the coffin that announced its death knell. I’d say something along the lines of who says that to another person but let’s face it the internet’s full of jerks who like hiding behind the anonymous button. I am a high functioning autistic and I have social anxiety so putting my stories out there can be hard sometimes. My grammar and punctuation aren’t very good. My spelling is not much better .I have a tendency to spell everything phonetically. I realize that this coupled with my tendency to use run on sentences means that I will probably always receive a lot of criticism and mockery for my stories. But I am going to write them anyway. I had a hard time connecting with people when I was a child and functioning in a classroom was difficult for me. I was shy and introverted and I spent a good portion of my time just trying to escape into my own head, because of this my school work suffered .The criticism for my poor performance in class from my teachers and other school officials just caused me to become more withdrawn . My Mother had me when she was still in her teens and my father was not in the picture so she worked a multitude of jobs to take care of me and my siblings. These jobs often took the shape of cleaning houses and other similar temp work. This meant we moved where the money was .We moved frequently often multiple times a year. This didn’t help with my situation ether. My mother didn’t understand why I was having so much trouble in school I was an almost completely different child at home around her and my siblings. She tried many different things to help me to the best of her abilities with differing levels of success but in the end it often boiled down to the fact that when I was overwhelmed I simply shutdown. It was several years before I was diagnosed with HFA. But having the diagnoses didn’t make things any easier it simply gave me a name for it. Put simply I was withdrawn and lonely, the few times I did make a friend where hard because we often had to move soon after. We didn’t have a lot of money so this meant that when we did move whatever we took had to fit in one vehicle or moving trailer. So furniture toys and various other items were left behind. But the one thing I took everywhere was my imagination and I feed it the best I could. I read voraciously and watched my favorite shows when I could the few times we had cable available usually only in places where it was included with the rent. Action cartoons mostly I dreamed of meeting my heroes and going on adventures with them. Sometimes those dreams were what got me through the rougher patches in my life. Things were hard for all of us we were lower income, and for reasons I’ve never really understood people treated my mother and by extension me and my siblings poorly because she was a woman on her own with three children. My mother is one of the sweetest people you could ever meet and she went through so much crap just because people can be Aholes. Over the years I was called many things bastard, stupid and retarded being at the top of the list. You might have thought this would have been something I only heard from my own peers but I frequently heard it from school staff and faculty as they discussed my poor work or lack of participation as if I wasn’t even there. By this point I pretty much lived in my own head. I had given up on trying to please and make an impression on the people around me. Instead I daydreamed and made up stories in my head to entertain myself until I could go home. When it came to school work I did only what I needed to do to get people to leave me alone. They didn’t care about me or my work so why should I put any effort into it. Writing assignments where something that caused me the most anxiety my spelling was awful my grammar none existent and my hand writing was almost illegible. No matter how hard I tried I could never seem to keep it flat on the line it almost always ended up floating up and curling away from it. I bet if any of you are bothering to read this you are wondering by now what if anything this has to do with fanfiction or why I write it. Well let me tell you what, there was a teacher I meet in 11th grade a tiny man who barley stood 5 ft. tall with his shoes on we’ll call him Mr. M. Now Mr. M had many vocations and among other things he enjoyed giving out creative writing assignments. I dreaded his class and hardly ever turned in any assignments writing or other. Then one day out of the blue one of his pet projects caught my eye and held my interest. It just sort of started to grow just a little idea that became a bit of a daydream and then morphed into a full blown story. I remember pulling out a sheet of notebook paper and starting to write and after a few false starts it just started to pour out of me .The rest of the world disappeared fading into the background. My hand actually cramped up but it was almost like I was possessed and I just kept writing. Then I became aware of someone standing over me .Years of getting caught reading or doodling when I was supposed to be doing something else had me tensing up and staring down at my hands. While I waited for the other shoe to drop but when I glanced up Mr. M was just standing there with this odd look on his face. The bell had rung while I was writing and I hadn’t heard it. When I looked back down I realized I didn’t just have a page of writing anymore. I had six front and back and had started on a seventh. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt more panicked then I did in that moment when he held out his hand and asked If he could see them. He started of looking at them while walking away then he just sort of stopped and sat down in a chair at the front of the room instead of going back to his desk. I should have been getting ready for my next class but I just sat there watching him read it while people filed into the room. When he looked up it was with that same odd look on his face and he asked if he could talk to me after school. I don’t remember much of the rest of the day except that I was late to two other classes and a bit more phased out than usual. I had a part time job doing custodial work for the school in the evenings, so that I could help my mom pay bills and I knew talking to Mr. M would probably make me late. But I went anyway watching my feet the whole way it was like walking to the guillotine. I nearly left twice while I stood in front of his classroom. I remember feeling my gut drop when he noticed me hovering in the doorway and motioned me over to his desk. Every paper I had ever turned in no matter how much time or effort I had put into it had always been returned to me by countless teachers covered in red ink to the point that it was almost unrecognizable. That day was no exception. I remember how horrible it felt when he passed that handful of papers back to me and I saw all that red slowly going down the page. I wanted to cry. Only the further down the page I looked the less ink there was. The mistakes were still there even I could see that but the marks tapered off to the point that they were nonexistent by the end of the third page. Mr. M just sat there watching me the whole time until I looked back up at him. I told him I didn’t understand. He just sat there for a minute I think trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to say to me .Before he finally leaned forward and pulled the papers back out of my hands and laid them on the desk between us. By this point my anxiety was terrible and I just wanted him to say whatever awful thing he was going to say so I could leave. Only he didn’t instead, He told me he liked it .I remember I just sat there looking at him like head grown a second head. He told me that while it was far from perfect and was a grammatical nightmare. It had something all good creative writing should have an interesting story. Years since and that has stuck with me to this day. I’m not saying this moment revolutionize my life or anything of the sort. I didn’t suddenly suffer an epiphany that resulted in my terrible grammar and spelling magically healing themselves overnight .In fact I continued to struggle in school and barley managed to pass my senior year. But you know what I also did, I kept day dreaming and making up stories in my head. Eventually I started writing them down and finally worked up the guts to start sharing them. My grammar and spelling are still awful compared to the average person. But they have improved substantially from what they were when I first started .I’m not a perfect writer. I’m not sure anyone really is, but I’m going to continue doing what writers of fiction everywhere fan based and otherwise have done for years. I’m going to try and tell you an interesting Story to the best of my abilities. They’re not perfect stories or master pieces of literature .Their messy and in need of polishing but they are also mine. A little part of myself that I have chosen to share with others, in the hopes that they might find it maybe not perfect but at least worth a read.

So here’s to all the writers out there. There is always going to be somebody out there with a pen full of red ink ready to slash your work like Jack the ripper. But chances are pretty good there’s also going to be someone who wants to read it so keep writing keep telling your stories even if there not perfect and need polishing. Keep working at it you’ll get better at it as you go. Don’t let anyone tell you, you can’t. Write even if it’s only for yourself, Tell your stories.

I’m going to post this on my DA, tumblr and FFN account because screw it sometimes we all need a little encouragement.