Borrowed: Understanding Authorial Practices in Fanfiction

Borrowed
Understanding Authorial
Practices in Fanfiction
Nicolle Lamerichs
CAST master thesis, Maastricht University, 2009

Borrowed
Understanding Authorial Practices in Fanfiction
by
Nicolle Lamerichs
University Maastricht: Cultures of Arts, Science and Technology

Borrowed:
Understanding Authorial Practices in Fanfiction
Nicolle Lamerichs
B.A. Arts and Sciences

Maastricht, 2007
Submitted to the program Cultures of Arts, Science and Technology in partial

fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of master of philosophy,
University of Maastricht, August 2009
Thesis supervision:
Dr. Karin Wenz
Thesis committee:
Prof. Maaike Meijer
© 2009 Nicolle Lamerichs. All rights reserved.
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Borrowed: Authorial Practices in Fanfiction
Table of Contents
Table of Contents 3
Acknowledgements 5
Chapter 1: Fan practices as a subject of research
Introduction 7
Defining the fan 9
The differences between fans and users 11
Fan practices across various media 13
Fandom as a heterogeneous construction 16
Transformative and performative authorship 18
Transmedia storytelling 21
Researching the fan 25
Self-reflexivity: The researcher as a fan 28
Chapter 2: Bards, authors, scribblers: A history of authorship and its consequences
Once upon a time there was a storyteller 35
Electronic writing 39
Think about it: Reading as an active process 43
The fine print: The hierarchy between a creator and fans 46
No trespassing: Legal aspects of fanfiction 48
Chapter 3: Transformative authorship: Reworking Tales of Symphonia
Can you imagine it? The many genres of fanfiction 53
Be my beta: Social and creative skills 57
Play it your way: Tales of Symphonia 62
Lost in translation 66
Tales of Symphonia at FanFiction.net 69
Feedback from fellow-fans 73
Interactivity and collaboration 76
Help, I’m a Sue! Self-conscious elements in fanfiction 78
The fan-author 83
Chapter 4: Performative authorship: Writing and role-playing characters
The practice and varieties of role-playing 89
Role-playing systems online: Defining these texts and their writers 93
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Luceti: The plot and its characters 97
Using LiveJournal to stage stories 100
Making conversation: Writing and style in role-plays 105
Performing characters: The live audience, gestures and the mise-en-scene 111
Between gaming and writing 114
Chapter 5: Submitting and sharing: Undermining the author?
Bibliography 121
Appendix A: Images 132
Appendix B: Glossary 135
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Acknowledgements
Many thanks to everyone who helped accomplish this thesis in one way or the other. I am
indebted to my supervisor, Dr. Karin Wenz, for guidance, input and most of all her continuous
support the last months. Thank you for the chances you always gave me to explore this
research. It means a lot to me.
To the entire team of CAST teachers, who taught us the tricks of the trade and the
charms of research, allowed us to sit in during important research meetings and always made
us feel at home at our faculty. Notably Prof. Wiebe Bijker, our program’s director, provided
us with a unique set of courses, opportunities and motivation.
To the Animecon, for enabling the workshop and for hosting a great weekend for fans
of Japanese pop-culture, year after year. Special thanks to Jeroen and Matijs who despite the
stress of real life still assure that with the convention and events run smoothly.
To OpenMinded and our little Dutch doujinshi scene. My fellow-fans and artists, you
always remind me of what being a creative in fan practices means. Special thanks to Marissa
Delbressine, for our current art projects and publications. Without your friendship and
guidance I would have never been able to run projects and still work on this thesis full-time.
And to your lesbian Peter Pan for inspiration.
To everyone I talked to and interviewed about fanfiction: Iris, Corinne, Wendelien,
Melissa, Suzanne, amongst others. Your views and insights gave me new perspectives.
Marianne, I promise I will interview you if I ever get a PHD. Thanks to Elsje for midnight
MSN sessions and rambles about the research, fiction and whatnot. This thesis is Splen-free, I
assure you. Also many thanks to Luceti, for letting me lurk there for some weeks. I enjoyed it
and feel like I finally understand a bit more what role-playing is all about.
To all my other friends, you have always been there in one way or the other. I am
sorry for locking myself up in my room these last months but you know why.
To my family, notably my sister, a big Tales of Symphonia fan. Without your material
this research would have surely looked different. There is not as much Yuan/Kratos in this
thesis as you might have hoped. I am compensating for that now.
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Chapter 1
Never-ending stories: Fanfiction as a matter of research
Introduction
Writing is a general way of communicating nowadays, so common and transparent that we
may not even realize it at all. While it used to be an exclusive activity for those that had the
time and ability to read and write, we now have a flourishing culture of literacy. Everyone
reads and writes, scribbles in the margins and produces texts. More recently, the internet with
its various platforms shaped most of its users into active textual contributors. Even those that
do not visit forums or profile sites may write emails or chat. User participation is growing, but
for a long time the most active audience consisted of fans that engaged with texts closely and
derived meaning of those for their private life.
Since several decades fans have been inspired to write texts based on their favourite
fiction, featuring parts of that setting, characters and plot. This phenomenon is called
fanfiction; a sole work is usually referred to as a fic. The internet made the distribution of
these stories easier and has enabled interaction about the content. Writers here base
themselves on source-text - an existing text such as a series, book or game - which they
explore through their own fiction. Here fans pay homage to a fictional product and try to
rewrite a certain phase in the story, tell something untold or unseen in the series itself or
describe an entirely new adventure or romance. Fanfiction is a way to share one’s imagination
with other fans and to interpret a text at fullest. It is usually derived from pop-cultural texts,
for instance, Harry Potter is a very popular field of fanfiction. Fans can also base their stories
on classics, to name two examples: Sherlock Holmes or Peter Pan (Walter, 2004). One can
find fanfiction of nearly every imaginable text (even the Bible) and there is even a wealth of
fiction based on the actors and authors of the source-text.
Fans are very free in the use of genres and storylines, making fiction that either relies
heavily on the source-text or moves away from it by combining texts or ridiculing a series.
Sexually the stories are also very diverse. Though some writers may try to stage a story that
could have easily been in the actual texts, others playfully give it their own spin. An existing
story thus is given new life and is opened up. Even if the original text long since ended, the
fanfiction author still enriches a text. From a fixed product the text thus becomes a never-
ending story, one that lacks the typical closure that we long since associated with fiction.
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Fanfiction is a grassroots kind of fiction, meaning that consumers make it and
distribute it. The movement of grassroots arts and communities is spontaneous; a bottom-up
process that may reach attention in mainstream culture and relies on the input of locals.
Fanfiction is kept vivid by the activity of fans and is promoted by them. Fans make an active
audience group and have, for a long time, been a good example of how readers can creatively
assess fiction. Nowadays user activity, including fan activity online, is a larger process that is
sometimes referred to as convergence culture. This term, by media theorist Henry Jenkins
(2004b) describes a tendency towards user’s activity online stimulated by recent sites that rely
on networking. These are often packed together under the umbrella term Web 2.0, referring to
sites since roughly 1999 that have a user-friendly design and rely on collaboration. This is
shown in various features such as comment functions, tags, easy links and search functions
(e.g., Wikipedia, YouTube). Convergence culture is also a larger process than Web 2.0, as
Jenkins describes it is a site: ‘where old and new media collide, where grassroots and
corporate media intersect, where the power of the media producer and the power of the media
consumer interact in unpredictable ways’ (2006b, p. 2). New relations between producers and
consumers are established; fan behaviour online forms an example of this.
Through this new technology consumers can become creative producers themselves.
They engage more closely with texts nowadays via new media and information technologies
(e.g., Jenkins, 2006a, 2006b). This opportunity for audience participation enables spectators to
attribute to an existing text. Fans do this by broadening a story world via new texts that may
be more or less related to the original narrative. The relationship between the author and the
reader changes in this field because fans transform existing material into new fiction. As
Aarseth (1997) describes: ‘The politics of the author-reader relationship, ultimately, is not a
choice between paper and electronic text, or linear and non-linear text, or interactive or non-
interactive text, or open and closed text, but instead is whether the user has the ability to
transform the text into something that the instigator of the text could not foresee or plan for’
(p. 164, italics NL). This transforming and adapting is at the heart of fan cultures, but has
become a matter for convergence culture in general too.
In this thesis specific attention will go to the portrayal of authorship and the view fans
have of their identity as an author or writer. Fanfiction authors do not gain similar attention as
institutionalized authors and fashion themselves differently. Their writing practice and
creativity are also of a different nature. The quality of fanfiction varies but quality is not the
only thing that affects a writer’s reputation: the persona of the author is here heavily
embedded in small internet subcultures that have specific norms and conventions. The
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relationship between author-reader-text is constituted alternatively here when compared to

original, printed fiction. The main research question of this thesis is the following: How does
fanfiction redefine what authorship means in our modern society? In this chapter I shall
elaborate on several key concepts and ideas. I shall describe what a fan is and what practices a
fan engages in. Then I shall define the concepts that are used in this thesis: transformative and
performative authorship, as well as transmedia story-telling. Lastly I shall depict the previous
research that has been done in fan studies, the methodological problems this subject poses for
a scholar and the method I used myself.
Defining the fan

The concept of a ‘fan’ can be debated. Indeed it is difficult to define when someone is a fan
and when he is not, especially now that other mainstream consumers have become more
active online (e.g., Jenkins, 2007). The consensus is usually the following: a fan differs from a
regular viewer by being more emotionally and attentively engaged with the source-text. A fan
uses the text for self-expression, for example by attributing creative works to it, by wearing
clothing related to it or by citing it. A certain fictional text or artist is relevant for the fan’s
self-construction and he will show this to others, not just fans but also non-fans varying from
family members to colleagues.
Indeed engagement with and attachment to a certain text are at the heart of fan
practices. As a second feature the fan has a specific way of interpreting texts. His reception
shows high interpretative qualities towards the source-text, more than that of an ordinary
consumer (Meers, 2006; Jenkins, 2006a, p. 204; Kaplan, 2006, p. 150-151). According to
Jenkins fans are firstly emotionally very connected to a text and will make sense of it on that
emotional level. For instance, they will be very pleased when their favourite character has a
good scene, or when the plot becomes very endearing. At the same time fans maintain a
critical distance and judge a product aesthetically, often by rewatching it or discussing it in-
depth with other fans. The mix of these two levels can lead to subjective analyses as McKee
(2001) for instance has shown.
Secondly, being a fan and judging a text takes place in a community or as the general
actor’s term is called, fandom, a rough equivalent of fan community and also adopted by
scholars. This term is used to describe the fans that are actively grouped around a text and
establish social relationships with their fellow fans. The fan incorporates the preferred
meaning of a group and standards on how to judge fan practices. This discussion fans have of
a series and their own fan products is commonly described as meta-text. For some fans being
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a fan also means adopting an alternative identity that is sometimes constructed in a larger
framework. Bailey (2005) has written about fans of Futurama that portrayed themselves as
geeks. Other overarching identities that fans, sometimes ironically, adopted include categories
as ‘nerd’, ‘otaku’ or ‘metalhead’. They frequently described an affinity with a certain genre or
a certain lifestyle.
In mainstream culture fans is sometimes perceived as deviant. Showing affinity with
Star Trek or other products may then be portrayed as a pathology or escapism. Early works in
fan studies from the eighties and nineties heavily argued against the image of the fan as either
deviant or violent, a discourse notably linked to sports (e.g., Jenkins, 1992). It appears that
nowadays fandom is overlapping with mainstream culture more and more where consumers
also become active, self-aware and fashion themselves for instance via ringtones or fannish
clothing. The line might be blurring to such a degree that Jenkins (2007) even speculates
fandom might blur into mainstream culture altogether.
Aside from the division between fans of a series and fans of a genre, other ways to
categorize fans have been thought of. For instance, Hills (2002a) has divided between cult-
fans and fans, the difference being that a cult-fan is engaged with a product that is typically
not in production anymore (a finished series, for instance). When dealing with cult, moreover,
there is a strange dynamic at hand since something has to be dubbed ‘cult’ as well by its fans.
Umberto Eco also defines cult products and their fans. In his essay about Cassablanca (1973)
he argues that the essence of cult movies lies in the fact that they are highly fragmented,
integrating many references and genres, thus forming not one movie, but many. This is what
interests the cult fans, all the references make it highly enjoyable to rewatch and enact. Other
categorizations of fans include the difference that Gray, Sandvoss and Harrington (2007) have
made between fans and anti-fans. The anti-fan is recognizable not by his affinity with a
source-text, but with his hatred thereof. The dislike of certain texts and genres can thus
become a binding element as well, a shared common good and project, with practices equal to
those of the actual fans.
As all of these categorizations show, being a fan can mean many things and depends
on the source-text a fan emotionally invests in. In general I would like to underline that
fandoms typically include a variety of individuals, all with different backgrounds and
relations to a source-text. Some may be a fan of various texts; others may be very keen on one
product. Even within a certain source-text, the relations may vary, for instance because some
refute parts of a text and others may approve it. For example, Meers (2006) describes how the
movies of Lord of the Rings changed the fandom and caused schisms between the new fans
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and older fans of the books. The relation to the text and other fans is crucial to the self-
identification of the individual fan.
The differences between fans and users

The line between fans and non-fans used to be more clear-cut. A fan was an enthusiast, a
fanatic, an intensive viewer of a series who liked expressing his affinity and loyalty to a
certain source-text. Now that the internet has become widespread, recognizing the fan is not
that easy anymore. Many theorists from the fields of media studies and literary studies (e.g.,
Jenkins, 2006a; Landow, 2006; Kelly, 2005) argue that the user participation online allows for
a more active, constructive audience. Internet has increased the amount of texts people read
from day to day, by enabling short writings as blogs, news articles and posts on boards or
more recently, social networking sites (SNS-sites). The more recent concept of Web 2.0
describes the increase in SNS-sites that allow more user/viewer participation.
This online activity and democratization is celebrated as a field in several ways:
information can be distributed easily to all kinds of parties that have access to this technology;
the audience can talk back and contribute; everyone can potentially become a user and writer.
‘Indeed, the whole discourse about ‘web 2.0’ has been animated by the hunger to develop a
new, more empowered, more socially connected, and more creative image of the consumer’,
Jenkins explains (2007, p. 358). Various terms have been coined to describe the online active
user/writer: wreader (Ryan, 2001, p. 9) to depict the new writer-reader relationships online,
where the reader can review a story, engage with it, arrange it or co-create it (e.g., in various
genres as hypertext, SNS-sites, fanfiction). Another term that occurs in current literature is
prosumer (e.g., De Mul, 2008; Jenkins, 2007, p. 358) which also describes this bottom-up
process in which consumers become producers.
However, some critics fear that this may lead to a decline in culture. Notably scholar
Steve Birkerts describes that by the lack of institutions as publishers and editors, the quality of
electronic writing such as hypertexts will be lower. In The Gutenberg Elegies (2006) he
claims that the lack of authority and proper institutes results in a loss of quality. Other critics
fear similar consequences, such as online news editor and scholar Jane Frel. ‘Pretty good has
become the new perfection’, she remarks in an interview about online texts (Friedlander,
2008). The quality of fanfiction has also become more dubious since fandoms moved online:
where it used to be limited to magazines with editors, publishing is now open for everyone,
from young teens who write for friends, to professionals (illustrated in chapter 3).
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Quality aside, the internet is hailed as the medium for self-expression and
democratization. That is exactly where the definition of a fan becomes a slippery-slope.
Where fans used to be the quintessential active audience, nowadays all the audience members
are asked to contribute. We are invited to go to the official website of a television series once
we watched the episode; we can talk about our favourite books at discussion boards, and even
a non-fan is familiar with standard tagged or manipulated images of a series. Fan practices
and modes of reception are slowly integrated in mainstream practices, especially online.
Jenkins ironically states when discussing these practices: ‘The old ideal might have been the
couch potato; the new ideal is almost certainly a fan’. (2007, p. 361). He describes this
participatory culture more thoroughly in Fans, Bloggers, Gamers (2006a) and Convergence
Culture (2006b). The active participant and consumer is approached in the new digital era,
where bottom-up processes are on the one hand appreciated and on the other hand
problematic. They create awkward tensions in the consumer-producer relation economically,
legally and creatively, as Jenkins illustrates in many of his essays.
Specific here is not that the audience talks about media content, forms ties or
communities and tries to reach out to the corporations. Indeed, before the internet was well-
used many people would discuss, quote or enact upon media content. Fans packed together in
older days when a show was about to be cancelled, and now they do so a more widespread
online (e.g., online petitions/actions for Carnivale, Firefly or Pushing Daisies). Though fans
are a more rigid example of consumer activity, general viewers are also preoccupied with
such matters but to a lesser degree. They may choose not to express their affinity that much or
take an active, organizational stand. Media had a ritual function before the internet as a
conversational topic that could glue people together and as a fiction that could mean be used
as a means of self-expression (Fiske, 1989).
The actual point is then that fan practices have become more visible. Because of these
online platforms, people will stumble upon fan practices sooner and become engaged with
them. The fan is present as the optimal consumer and receptor. The corporations still have
trouble defining their relation with their audience, but are more willing to play with the
benefits. At the moment the difference between fans and users is still pretty large, but in the
future it may become more problematic to define between these two groups. This discourse
of active audiences still deals with two separate groups that only have ‘activity’ in common.
Fan practices across various media

Fans express their ideas and affinity to a text – book, series, game - in various ways, fanfic-
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tion being just an example of this (e.g., Jenkins, 2006b, p. 12; Coppa, 2006). The range of
creative practices fans are indulged in is quite broad and mediated in different ways. After
going into the history of fanfiction shortly, I shall describe a few other dominant fan practices:
Fan art, fan videos, cosplay, fan translations and fan conventions.
Fanfiction is a rather old practice. Since the seventies of the twentieth century media
and book fans (e.g., Star Trek) have written their own stories featuring the characters they
love that often take place in the same setting. Similar practices started earlier in the nineteenth
century when amateur authors wrote their own Sherlock Holmes stories, Jane Austen fiction
or Lewis Caroll sequels (Viires, 2005). Fanfiction also reminds of the various authors that
have written Oz-stories throughout the twentieth century. However, in the seventies it became
more institutionalized as an amateur, fan practice, rather than related to professional authors
that actually published these adaptations. The earliest fanfiction authors bundled their stories
in fanzines and sold these at conventions among peers. Nowadays fanfiction is booming since
the internet made it easier to distribute these stories and find likeminded writers and readers.
Making fan art means that an amateur artist inspires visual art - a comic or drawing or
portrait - on a series. The fan may choose to follow the style of the source-text when it is
possible by adopting the designs, or choose to explore the characters or setting in his own
style. Fan art is a good way to practice drawing and be in touch with the fan community.
Commonly the art is uploaded at amateur artists’ sites as Elfwood or DeviantArt or a personal
website. Often they will use several systems to host their work. Fans can also upload the work
at specific fan forums or genre systems such as Y!Hosting which is specialized at homosexual
art. Sometimes the content refers to the show more than in its designs and may specifically
address or spoof visuals that are integrated in the series (e.g., Bailey, 2005). Fans may choose
to sell their fan art or gain a wider audience by for instance selling prints online or at
conventions, or by publishing their comics themselves. Self-published comics based on
Japanese content or made by Japanese artists are called doujinshi and can contain original art
or fan art.
Fan videos are content based on an existing source-text and sometimes incorporate
footage of the original text. Though these videos are commonly made by amateurs, the quality
of this content varies, since some fans can also be, for instance, professional animators. The
length of these videos differs, as well as the size of the team working on them. The earliest
fan video was made in the seventies by Kandy Fong, who had by then already presented
several Star Trek slideshows accompanied by songs (Coppa, 2006; Jenkins, 2008a). Music
videos (abbreviation FMV or AMV) nowadays form a more dominant genre of fan videos:
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one edits existing footage (e.g., a Star Trek) to fit a chosen song. Other subgenres of fan
videos are machinima (videos rendered via the 3-D engine of games); fan dubs (videos that
leave the original footage intact, but provide it with different voices); flash movies (original
animations made in Adobe Flash) and fan films (original live action videos).
Making and wearing costumes inspired on a series is also a common practice for fans.
This is described as cosplay (costume playing) by fans of Japanese pop-culture, a term which
is now sometimes for Western inspired costumes too. The original production of the costume
is the crucial act here: they are made by fans and not sold commercially. Though some
costumes can be bought (e.g., Star Trek outfits) most of them cannot be purchased, especially
when it comes down to Japanese pop-culture. The fan then has the option of asking someone
for a commission, in other words, to make the costume for them, which can be another fan, an
acquaintance that can sew or a professional seamstress. When the costumes are finished the
fan wears them at conventions or at small fashion shows, as props for fan videos or general
parties. Cosplaying is also not the same as role-playing, though some people may choose to be
more ‘in character’, in general the costumes are worn out of devotion for a series without
loosing yourself in the role too much. However, many cosplayers perform skits (short
individual or group performances) at conventions in their outfits, which overlaps more with
fanfiction since you write a script and act out a role.
Some practices are less creative and can be described as productive or functional.
Many fans are occupied with subtitling foreign (often Asian) media content and subtitle that,
which results in a fan sub that can be distributed online or otherwise. Other translation
activities involve scanlations: scanning and translating (Japanese) comics or doujinshi to
make them accessible and understandable for fellow-fans. Some fans may make fan dubs with
a team of fan voice actors and dub the content rather than subtitle it. Other fan practices
include making icons or wallpapers, capturing screenshots and adding a witty text to them,
making animated gifs or creating fan mixes, a kind of mix tape with various songs that a fan
associates with the text.
Fans may meet up in small groups or attend organized larger meetings: fan
conventions, gatherings arranged by fans themselves. While fanfiction itself has its roots in
the seventies, fan conventions are a phenomena dating back from the thirties often organised
by fan clubs or more recently, fan magazines or other associations. For instance, the earliest
fan clubs for Sherlock Holmes - The Sherlock Holmes Society (London) and The Bakerstreet
Irregulars (New York) - date from 1934. The first science fiction conventions also stem from
the thirties. Though commonly a convention covers a genre (like science fiction) some
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conventions are hosted for one series only. Star Trek is a classic example of that, with its first
convention hosted in 1972 (Walker, 2008). A convention generally lasts a weekend, though
smaller conventions are pretty common too. A hotel or entertainment hall is rented to for
these events to take place.
Many conventions are a chance for fans to meet up. Where the focus used to be on
meeting fans per se, it now also involves meeting up with people in real life that you already
know from online boards. On top of that many fan conventions also try to invite famous
guests related to the fandom (actors, writers, technical crew) to give interviews, participate in
panels and give autographs. This is a more common practice in science fiction conventions,
but not all of them (for the tenor of American science fiction cons in the early nineties, check
Bacon-Smith, 1992, p. 8-22). For instance, while the German Fedcon invites many actors,
smaller conventions like the Flemish FACTS focus on fan practices and merchandise. At
anime-conventions, especially the European ones, there are often little to no guests. Especially
in The Netherlands this is quite uncommon because the Dutch fan conventions are smaller in
size and it would not be cost-efficient. The problem here can also be one of location and
language: the Japanese guests commonly need translators to share information. Moreover,
when it comes down to animation and games there is a whole team behind a work rather than
a few fore-grounded persons that might appeal to fans (e.g., actors, a small writing team)
which makes it harder for fans to establish a relation towards the production team.
Conventions commonly host many activities. Most choose to feature movies and series
related to the fandom, for instance by showing a recent anime. Typically there is a dealer
room to buy merchandise, workshops and panels about various fan related topics from
practical questions – how to make your own anime music video? - to in-depth information
about a product with a professional panel. Some conventions host lectures too. Events for
anime-conventions often include competitions related to fan practices: a cosplay competition
with short theatrical skits or a fashion show; a drawing table or wall to put your own drawings
on or competitions for the best fan video. They may even include music or dance, such as
Japanese para para, quick group dances with accessories or, at more fantasy minded
conventions, folkloristic bands to dance to.
Fandom as a heterogeneous construction

Discussing fan communities means that you deal with a troublesome, large unit that is highly
diverse. Earlier I already described fandom, the term used to describe fans that actively group
around a certain text. The word fandom might lead one to believe fans are one big group.
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Even scholars tend to depict fans as one subversive, emancipative group that has certain
practices in common, most studies have only paid attention to one fan community and have
been criticized for that (e.g., Scodari, 2003; Jenkins, 1992, pp. 120-151). This produces a
biased image of the fandom as a homogenous construction. Fandom is however mostly an
analytical term to describe those that have affinity with a text, while it is scattered across
various groups online and offline. As stated in the previous paragraphs fans can participate in
several groups and practices and shift among these: this fluidity is very important. Media-fans
tend to favour several shows or games and often have affinity with certain genres or
subcultures. Similarly not all fans will be active in online or offline communities, some just sit
at home to attentively enjoy a series. In this section I shall discuss various features of fandoms
in which their diversity is shown.
Firstly, though fans are often grouped together based on similar practices, we cannot
just describe them as one group or community but should also pay attention to the specific
fandoms they participate in. Fans exist of every thinkable cultural repertoire. Though early
studies on fans dealt with media fans, recent studies have stretched the domain by focusing on
for instance cult fans, celebrities or music (e.g., Bailey’s analysis of Kiss, 2005, pp. 101-156).
Here the values and practices of fans can be entirely different. In similar fashion the recent
publication Fandom (Gray et al., 2007) features a wide range of essays covering sports, high
arts and anti-fans - groups of consumers bounded by their distaste of a certain product. Within
previous sections I also discussed that viewers of series can be categorized in several ways,
fans only being one of them.
Secondly, fandom is bounded to nationality to some degree as well. This often does
not show in the fan practices themselves such as the content or quality of fanfiction or the
kind of fan art. However, it does become apparent in how fan activities are institutionalized
when focussing on for instance conventions or fan publications. In Japan doujinshi (fan
comics) flourish, whereas in America fanfiction is more dominant as a self-published type of
fiction. In The Netherlands printed fanfiction is very rare even at conventions, in contrast to
making and publishing doujinshi, which has a small market here.
Thirdly, some fans may want not show their affection towards a text by joining
conventions or communities. They are either unaware of fan communities, may prefer not to
express their affection with fellow-fans or are not able to join for one reason or the other.
There is a difference between these kind of fans - who express their love solely on a local,
personal level - and fans that feel the need to organize (e.g., Hills, 2002a, p. 86; Bacon-Smith,
1992; Jenkins 2006a, 162-168). Similarly, the degree of how much a fan gets into the text also
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varies and some like to display their knowledge. For instance, in anime fandoms there are fans
that also learn Japanese to engage better with the material and they may feel empowered when
they master more of the language.
Moreover, fans often do not stick to one fandom. This is described by Jenkins in
Textual Poachers (1992): fans are not just poachers, but also nomads who move around in
pop-culture. They usually love several texts or have an affinity with a certain genre, though
their interests may not be that broad. For instance, they may like certain superhero comics or
science fiction texts more avidly than others. Sometimes they grow out of a fandom but other
times they get back into it after years again and relive that joy mixed with nostalgia. Fans can
love both Buffy: The Vampire Slayer and Star Trek equally; they recommend the series to
people with similar interests; they discover new bands that make their type of music. Fans
constantly try to broaden his territory while still remaining an expert in some series. They are
more free-floating than a lot of research depicts them.
In this fluidity and interaction a strange tendency manifests itself. On the one hand
fans try to recruit newcomers non-stop and get acquainted with different products and
fandoms themselves. On the other hand they often shun new fans at online boards, which
gives the newcomers a hard time to fit in. They are mocked and portrayed as ‘noobs’
(newbies) when they are not aware of all the ins and outs in the fandom. At a lot of boards or
LiveJournal communities users introduce themselves by saying they have ‘lurked’ at the site
(observed it) for a while, or describe how they were engaged with the product before coming
to the specific community. This in part prevents being depicted negatively as a newcomer.
A fandom can also turn out to be highly divided when some fans exclude others based
on taste or interpretation. These conflicts can have various causes. Sometimes there is a
debate about how to interpret the background of a text or the story world. Other times a sequel
or adaptation can cause schisms because some fans accept it while others tend to refuse it.
Within my case-study this will become clear when dealing with, amongst others, the sequel of
Tales of Symphonia that has been criticized by many of the loyal fans. Other causes of debate
and even flame wars are not the content, but the characters. Problems arise offline and online
when some fans tend to favour a certain character or when they feel other people misinterpret
them. In general there are many communities to celebrate characters specifically. The
introduction of new characters can be a source of debate as well, which hovers between the
previously mentioned debates of accepting new information added to a story and the liking of
characters.
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Another anchor point for sub communities are certain pairings (romantic couples) fans
prefer. This divides the fan community in smaller groups: new listings are made to celebrate
certain pairings, recruit new fans and catalogue practices related to only one pairing. This
leads to exclusions of other branches of the fandom and even an open disregard for the others
at some points. What for an outsider seem almost childish problems – what characters should
date one another – become a root of fan expression and deeply emotionally embedded. This
takes place at all kinds of levels. For instance, there is an obvious difference between
slashers, those who enjoy seeing the characters in a homosexual relationships, and shippers,
those who prefer to see them in a straight relationship.
What poses limited problems for an outsider, becomes a large issue in a fandom
where fans are so actively engaged with a text. Though this will not always lead to problems -
and indeed, many fans prefer various pairings or at least reading about them - it can become
very apparent at other times. To depict a fandom as one fixed set of actors would be very
naive. There is a lot of dialogue and discussion in fandoms that leads to smaller groups. There
is also a division based on the activity of users. For instance, those who indulge in similar fan
practices (e.g., cosplaying or writing fanfiction) may group together or communicate more.
Transformative and performative authorship

To depict the modes of writing in fanfiction I will use two terms: transformative authorship
and performative authorship, which I based on existing literature that discusses transformative
fiction and performativity. Via these concepts I aim to show the difference between creating
original fiction, making fanfiction in the form of prose, and textual role-playing.
Transformative authorship is a term based on transformative works, another term for
fanfiction and similar practices in today’s digital culture (and print culture) that attribute to a
work. The term is used more in the legal discourse surrounding fanfiction. I chose to use to
apply this concept rather than ownership because it adequately describes the root of the
problem here: writers adopt a text and ‘transform’ it into a version or homage of their own.
Ownership in contrast to transformative authorship implies that a text is owned by the actual
creator of the source-text. When I use ownership in this thesis it is usually meant as legal
concept that defines problems of copyright, or in some cases as emotional ownership, when
fans feel parts of a fan text belong to them. Transformative works pose problems for the
overarching discussion of what authorial practices actually are. A more general term to
describe fanfiction is via derivative fiction, which describes fiction based on other texts. This
can for instance be a parody, pastiche or fanfiction.
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In the Code for Fair Use (2008) the legal implications of making fanfiction are
described with the emphasis that a work is transformative when it manages to add something
to a text, rather than repeating it. The Organization for Transformative Works (since 2007) is
ran by fans and fan scholars, with the purpose of defending fans legally and providing a
platform for discussion. Rebecca Tushnet, one of its members, publishes a lot on the questions
fanfiction imposes on copyright. One of the problems with transformative works, she thinks,
is that they sometimes oppose the view of the author: ‘Transformative uses are uses that add
new insights or meaning to the original work, often in ways that copyright owners don’t like’.
(2007, p. 61). That may lead to legal cases, such as a prosecution of the adaption The Wind
Gone Done, when the copyright holders were not amused by the gay content the author wrote
in his version of Gone With The Wind. As I will explain in chapter 3, the degree of originality
within such fiction varies, while the concept itself manages to describe what is at the root of
the problem: a swinging between original and imitation.
Performative authorship is the term I use to describe textual role-playing in blog
format. When discussing role-playing as a fan practice, it can also be seen as transformative
since it leans on a source-text and changes that into a new text. As I described at the
beginning of this section, performative authorship as such can also refer to original content.
The term is one that should explain the role of the author that performs as a character, be it an
original or existing one. The role-player writes and communicates, but the narrative takes
place on another level, in interaction with other users and moderators. The performative
author is to some degree a gamer, not just a writer.
Performativity is here thus not meant as it is introduced by Judith Butler (1990) in
queer studies. Butler specifically relates performativity to the construction of one’s identity in
a discourse of power by acts of repetition, which is confirmed constantly through words and
actions. Here, the term is used as a concept of theatrics, rather than a social notion: the source-
text is played out by users who assume several roles. However, this mode of performing
implies some features of Butler’s concept, in a sense that the act of role-playing as well as the
character itself can become very relevant for the writer’s personal identity and the way he or
she expresses him- or herself in daily life. It may also have consequences for the writer’s
identity in terms of gender and sexuality, for instance, when the writer adopts a character
which he can play out certain masculine or feminine characteristics he does not perform
outside the fictional realm. Previous analyses of fanfiction related to performativity include
firstly Kurt Lancaster (2001), who discusses various ways (e.g., card games, videogames and
fan texts) to play out the world and characters of Babylon 5. Busse (2006) describes
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performance in relation to gender studies, while Francisca Coppa (2006) compares fanfiction
to theatre productions by emphasizing amongst others its bodily features. All authors thus
fashion the term slightly differently. My use of performativity in this thesis, when applied to
role-playing, will be related to the performing of a character.
Transformative and performative authorship do not oppose original content or fiction
per se. On the one hand, transformative fiction, as I shall explain in the chapter, bases itself on
existing content, but incorporates many original elements and can become a very autonomous
story. On the other hand, original fiction also bases itself on pre-existing content, clichés and
conventions. Performative authorship can be an adequate term to describe various role-
playing characters. For instance, a fan can also role-play an original character in a fictional
blog or at other sites, rather than an existing character, which is the subject I deal with now.
Both types of authorship heavily depend on intertextuality. Deriving your work from
an existing text and transforming it, already implies that you are engaged in an intertextual
practice. I do not intend to use the term as a kind of discourse inherent of texts or to explore
how language relates to conventions or culture in general. The term here is meant in a narrow
way and describes the way a text relates to a source-text. This gives the newer text its
additional meaning, or even forms the complete foundation on which the new text (e.g., a
fanfic) is constituted. Intertext can be shaped in various ways in fan texts. The first and
foremost relation is that fan texts are frequently unreadable without a notion of the source-
text. An outsider would not understand these texts; indeed, it is assumed that the reader is
aware of the source at least to some degree.
A fan text can also refer to different cultural repertoires than the source-text. These can
be quotes or descriptions pointing to other popular media or fiction, varying from things that
we consider to be normal language ‘good going, Sherlock!’ to references only those
acquainted to a popular text will understand. Whether the text actually exists in the fictional
universe is not a point here, rather these references should appeal to the knowledge of the
reader. For instance, the characters of Tales of Symphonia have never read Tolkien’s Lord of
the Rings, it does not exist there, but referring to it produces a comical effect exactly because
of that. Some references can be more common across fandoms (e.g., a catchphrase as
‘Everybody lies!’ from House M.D.). Other fans allude to high arts, rather than popular
culture and cover Shakespeare, poetry or modern painting.
Intertext also arises between fan texts that can built on each other’s repertoire and
ideas, or make very clear references to other fan products. In the next section this will be
illustrated through the notion fanon. Fan communities are however not only influenced by
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fans and the source-text, but also by external information that can be provided by the authors
of the source-text. Fans frequently base themselves on information (e.g., interviews) that
producers or actors have confined. This is usually described as extratextual by scholars (e.g.,
Jenkins, 1992, pp. 86-119) to divide between the relations established across fictional texts
and the external sources fans rely on for interpretation.
Intertextual qualities can also be quite practical and relate to the form of the content.
Since this thesis focuses on electronic literature, the lay-out of a site becomes important.
There links to other platforms (hyperlinks) may be embedded that link a visitor to different
content on the same or other platforms. When applied to fanfiction these may be links to
favourite authors, stories and reviews or to external sites. This can be seen as a type of
hypertext: electronic text displayed on the computer fragmentarily, where the reader can click
on hyperlinks to continue the narrative (see also Aarseth, 1997; Ryan, 2001; Landow, 2006).
Hyperlinks are important since they give ground to very direct forms of intertext. Within the
case-study all these kinds of intertextual practices can be retraced and studied in detail.
Intertext is in this research mostly used as a term to depict textual relations rather than to
analyze them. My description of fan practices will be more aimed at the concepts mentioned
before and focus on storytelling rather than formal or semiotic comparisons between texts.
Transmedia storytelling
This thesis also explores transmedia storytelling, the spreading and extending of narratives
across various media platforms (e.g., comics, movies, animations). This concept was first
used by Henry Jenkins in Technology Review (2003) and describes how a story is co-created
by various corporations to include new information. While a television series or movie used to
limit the story to that medium, nowadays bits and pieces are smeared over various platforms.
According to Jenkins (id.) this leads to a specific kind of consumption: ‘Younger consumers
have become information hunters and gatherers, taking pleasure in tracking down character
backgrounds and plot points and making connections between different texts within the same
franchise’. Transmedia storytelling can be taken quite broadly. For instance, Long (2004)
writes about the way action figures can add to the story while Ito (2003) discusses card games
as adding to a narrative.
Transmedia storytelling is only one of the terms to cover the practice of a story being
transferred to different media. Marie-Laure Ryan describes the process in Narrative Across
Media (2004a) as: the ‘cross-medial study of narrative’ (p. 23); ‘narrative media studies (p.
35) ‘and ‘transmedial narratology’ (id., see also Herman, 2004), all of which refer to the same
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practice. Another concept that is similar to these is Bolter and Grusin’s remediation.
Remediation can be defined as the ‘formal logic by which new media improve upon or
remedy prior media forms’, ergo the way in which new media incorporate elements of the old
(1999, p. 273). For instance, hypertext can incorporate features of print culture; movie
adaptations can depict features of the original comic; television broadcasts still have
similarities with the radio. Remediation is therefore not the same practice as transmedia
storytelling rather it can be a potential feature when a story is transferred to new media. As a
concept remediation captures different media platforms as a kind of linear, technological
success story. Here the different versions are not presented as alternatives or additional means
of telling a story, but rather as an aemulatio of the earlier medium. Remediation underlines a
simplified image of what media do and how different media add up to each other. The term
transmedia storytelling, however, enables a discussion about the stories, their shape and their
reception, as well as their platforms.
Transmedia storytelling is commonly related to big ‘story worlds’ that enable
reworkings, prequels, sequels and side stories based on different characters. Even earlier texts
as Walter Benjamin’s The Storyteller (1936) explain how important the world and a reader’s
connection with it is for telling a story. In this essay Benjamin describes that the storyteller
has many similarities with the historiographer in ways of making a chronology and
interrelating events. The genealogy is what counts. In his thesis on transmediality Geoffrey
Long (2007) writes: ‘the world must be considered a primary character of its own, because
many transmedia narratives are not the story of one character at all, but the story of a world’.
Transmedia storytelling offers different entry points to dive into a story world, which means
that it needs to offer more than an adaptation or imitation of an already existing text. For
instance, an accurate movie version of a source-text generally displays a very low factor of
transmedia storytelling. After all, it mostly depicts the same story. Transmedia storytelling
succeeds where it smears out its narrative over various media, depicting different instances of
the story. Thus corporations draw new audiences and expand the genealogy for those already
familiar with the content.
Story worlds demand active readers to understand the narrative in its fullest sense
(e.g., Landow, 2006, p. 245; Herman, 2004, p. 50). The act of putting together bits and pieces
of the story is the central goal, though ideally one can also choose to consume only one of the
texts of the franchise. Indeed, the puzzling over the narrative may even be the key to the
success of such worlds. To enable a good franchise and indeed, flourishing fan practices, one
needs a story that is rich, multi-layered and has all kinds of background content that is hinted
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at. Fiction that succeeds in building such worlds includes for example The Matrix (e.g.,
Jenkins, 2006b), Star Trek, Buffy The Vampire Slayer (e.g., Gwenllian Jones, 2005) or Harry
Potter. The practice of transmedia storytelling is also a more common thing in Japan, where a
series often comes with various adaptations (e.g., manga, anime, game) and a great deal of
merchandising (e.g., Jenkins, 2006b, notably p. 110).
Another point of success of transmedia storytelling is the unravelling of the actual
story line and background content, some of which may purposely only be hinted at. These can
be places that are never seen in the source-text, but can be elaborated later, or histories of
characters that are only briefly mentioned. Rather than the plot, settings or events, the
occurrence of generic or side characters can also appeal to the imagination of the viewer or
reader. Long (2007) describes these practices as ‘negative capability’, the act of creating
provocative gaps in a story that create a sense of doubt, insecurity and wondering (id., pp. 53-
69). Providing these openings leaves room for input of the audience but at the same time it
generates material for the author or team to come up with more products.
This is what particularly draws fans towards stories with rich environments: the first
step for a lot of fan practices is made when there are gaps in a story. The audience wants to
discuss them, reach a sense of closure and depict what may have happened. To depict the high
affinity of fans with a certain story world I use the term immersion which assumes that fans
distance themselves from the actual world and succumb to a certain narrative entirely (see
also chapter 3). The concept is explored in narrative studies when audience reception and
reading processes across media are examined. Immersion as a state of imagination fits the
idea that fans actively engage with texts and connect deeply to a fictional world as such.
Fans usually refer to the source-text and its story world in the term canon. This is not
to be confused with canon in literary studies, which refers to body of works that are highly
regarded and studied, though canon in this sense is important for fan studies as well where
fans create new canons of popular texts. For fans and within fan studies canon means the
official information or material that is established in fictional product by the creators. The
information is genuine in a sense that it actually happened in the narrative: this need not have
been an actual event, but can also be hinted at by characters. This is described as subtext:
themes, motives or meanings that are implicit within the canon source-text. Fanfiction is in
general not considered canon because it is not an official product. However, it can be true to
the canon in terms of characterization, settings or plot. Fanfiction always corresponds to the
canon to some degree, a degree that the fan-author chooses himself. Fans like to play with the
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official texts and refer to the canon to describe the ways in which their own stories fit the
existing narrative or undermine it.
Canon is the opposition of fanon. Sometimes fans establish information themselves
which spreads rapidly. Certain fan texts have such an influence that their ideas are used in
more fan texts. This is called fanon, referring to the fictional concepts that fans have coined
and that circulate online or offline. This interpretation of facts can be confused by fans with
the actual canon. Fanon can become canon when companies adopt the information via
audience input online which influences their story line development, by licensing a fan text or
arguably, by hiring a fan.
Transmediality poses problems for the canon in terms of reworking and adapting.
Different products of a transmedial story world might not add up narrative wise and fans may
base their fiction on varying source-texts, which then needs to be stated, as will be elaborated
in chapter 3. Furthermore, if something is translated to another media, elements are lost or
replaced. The media-specific elements have been negotiated in several essays in Marie-Laure
Ryan’s Narrative Across Media. Most texts argue nothing essential of the narrative is violated
when translating (Herman, 2004; Elliott, 2004; Marie-Laure Ryan, 2004a), though it does
pose new theoretical problems when defining what a narrative is (Ryan, 2004a, p. 32-33).
Moreover for fans and other consumers there can be a fear that things are added or lost in the
new ‘language’. The fear of adaptations or additional bits of a story is quite genuine, because
some fans feel the story world would no longer be the same, but violated or misrepresented.
Often one of the texts will feel like a better representation or more true. For instance, Star
Trek Enterprise was subjected to a lot of critique because it did not fit the atmosphere of the
earlier series. I retraced similar discussions in my case-study (see chapter 3).
Subsets of transmedia storytelling can vary from autonomous (e.g., a standalone movie
adaptation) to hardly any autonomous at all (e.g., music, action figures, art books). Though
everything takes part in transmedia storytelling, not all of the products will be good entry
points and some might provide a slightly different version of the story altogether. Transmedia
storytelling has been subjected to the critique that you often need the actual text or ur-text to
understand the story world at fullest (Dena, 2007). However, this is only the case with some
texts. For instance, it is necessary to start with the series of Buffy The Vampire Slayer rather
than the comics, because the comics is an additional season that takes place after the series in
the chronology. However, you can hook up with Star Trek at any point be it a series or movie,
and because it is highly episodical, you can arguably start within a series as well. I would
argue this has to do with the autonomy of the products: though some transmedial products are
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stand-alone and form good anchors into the world, others depend more on other texts or take
place at a very distinctive part of the series’ history.
Researching the fan

In the following overview I try to define several key authors and modes in the history of fan
studies. I also focus on the critique some of these scholars received to show how the field has
progressed throughout the years. Overviews on fan studies commonly start of with Henry
Jenkins (1992) and Camille Bacon-Smith (1992) to depict the early studies on fanfiction (e.g.,
Busse, Hellekson, 2006, pp. 17-20; Gray, Sandvoss, 2007). Some histories begin earlier with
the studies of popular culture by Grossberg or Fiske, while the previously mentioned authors
still remain anchor points (e.g., Gwenllian-Jones, 2005; Bailey, 2005).
The studies on fans of the early nineties are highly involved with the interpretation and
production of texts in fan cultures. Their focus remains largely on textual fan practices, such
as fanfiction, and how to make sense of the communities that surround these. Here fans are
depicted as producers of knowledge and new texts. Later studies argue against that image by
showing it neglects the root of fan practices: affection (e.g., Hills, 2002a, pp. 65-72). The
absence of the emotional side of being a fan in early scholarly texts leads to an image of the
fan as a critic. However, a fan is never an objective reader of a text. Fans are highly
passionate about a source-text and act upon that. Fan descriptions may raise arguments of
quality within fiction, but one should pay heed to the fact that fan’s opinions are emotionally
coloured (see also McKee, 2001, p. 16-20).
Early studies on fans also emphasize fan communities as a mode of resistance against
mainstream popular culture: fans negotiate the dominant meanings of texts, and poach, as
Henry Jenkins (1992) calls it, the text by opening it up for new interpretations and alternative
versions. Though fan practices have subversive sides, fans are depicted less politically now
than in the nineties. The emphasis on resistance in early studies can now be explained in two
ways. The first argument follows out of their unit of analysis, as Scodari also describes (2003,
pp. 113-117). Early academic texts usually deal with specific forms of fanfiction: Mary Sues
and slash. Mary Sue is a genre of fanfiction that features a perfect, original female character
that enters the story world. These narratives are frequently regarded as a wish-fulfilment of
the female fan-author and notably interesting because of their feministic representation of
women. This element is picked up by early scholars who elaborate upon the empowerment of
female characters in this fiction.
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Secondly slash is often analyzed in early studies: a genre of fanfiction in which
straight characters are portrayed as gay, thereby undermining the source-text and taking a
seemingly emancipative stand. Scholars commonly use this to illustrate a progressive
tendency in fandoms through its use of homosexual themes (e.g., Bacon-Smith, 1992; Jenkins,
1992, pp. 185-222). The analysis of Mary Sue and slash leads to somewhat exaggerated view
of fanfiction as opposed to mainstream culture. However, a fair part of these stories actually
deals with heterosexual relations and conventional genres. Moreover, the queer or subversive
motives in fan practices should not be mistaken for a political or emancipative stand per se.
Slash for instance confirms dominant discourses on gender and sexuality as well: it commonly
effeminizes one of the characters in the homosexual relation; it neglects lesbian fiction and
often presumes that the characters are only gay by exception (e.g., Scodari, 2003, p. 114).
The focus on these genres is not the only thing that leads to a subversive image of
fans. In the nineties fans still have to be put on the agenda as a subculture worth studying
which requires a certain rhetoric. Emphasizing the good and innovative sides of fandom
makes this possible as well as analyzing fanfiction as democratic genre (Jenkins, 2006a, p. 8-
10; Gray et. al., 2007, pp. 1-4). Importantly, early scholars also argue against a specific image
of fans that is established in the media. Mainstream culture usually portrayed fans negatively,
either as quirky and pathetic, or as potentially violent sociopaths. Indeed, the term is an
abbreviation of fanaticus or ‘fanatic’ which has the connotation of ‘fancy’, religious fits and
overactive engagement, which can be portrayed tragically or violently (e.g., Bailey, 2005, p.
48-49; Jenkins, 2006a, p. 17). The first studies on fans also try to adjust that image. In doing
so they emphasize that a large part of fandom is for instance formed by women who are
involved in close-reading and show specific expertise. This focus also produces a normative
image of fans in which they are depicted as too progressive (see also Hills 2002a, p. 8-10).
Though fan-scholars are more aware of this imagery now, describing fans normatively still
remains a discussion point (e.g., Jenkins, 2006a, p. 10-11).
After these first studies various publications follow that tap from different academic
backgrounds and authors. Busse and Hellekson (2006) continue their history of fanfiction by
showing the various scholars, interpretations and discourses within the studies of fanfiction
and other fan practices, while underlining that fanfiction continued to be a dominant subject in
this field. In their overview they elaborate shortly on individual authors and groundbreaking
texts, rather than depicting new trends that followed in the nineties. By contrast Gray,
Sandvoss and Harrington (2007) argue that there was a second wave of fanfiction as well,
which tried to incorporate the aesthetic quality of fan products. This second wave analyzed
26
the social and cultural hierarchies within fandom, inspired by Bourdieu’s terminology (id., pp.
5-7). Capturing fan studies in several waves seems rather presumptuous. The field of fan
studies is pretty small to begin with, which makes it odd to speak of a first, second and
arguably third wave (which would then be Gray, Sandvoss and the like themselves).
Though the studies from the early nineties have a clear tendency, what is published
after that is rather broad and from various disciplines. Gray and Sandvoss’s suggestion can be
retraced in a minor selection of publications to illustrate the second wave, but this is not
entirely representative of the corpus of texts of that time (e.g., Busse and Hellekson mention
texts with a fully different tenor). Furthermore, the publications of fan studies basing
themselves on Bourdieu cover a range of years rather than one particular moment. Analyzing
the aesthetic value of fan products is still an ongoing endeavour. For instance, the literary
qualities or analyses of fanfiction have recently been discussed by Pugh (2004), Stasi (2006),
Kaplan (2006). Indeed, the suggestion of a second wave seems mostly rhetorical in essence, a
strategy to make their own publication seem new and inventive. Similar theoretical ideas can
be traced in their earlier publications (Gray, 2006; Sandvoss, 2005).
Aside from this division in three waves, Jenkins himself has reflected on the history of
fan studies. He argues that early media studies of fandom should not start with him, though he
was one of the first scholars studying fans and had a large influence with that (Jenkins, 2006a,
pp. 12-14). Rather earlier theorists as Fiske and Radway, who are criticized or used by later
authors, should be seen as a starting point. From then on, several discourses and groups can be
distinguished; authors that benefited from the ways the earlier scholars had paved (id., pp. 11-
12). He describes himself as belonging to a second generation, rather than the first.
Though fan studies has grown a lot over the years, it is still a young discipline with
many sporadic publications that are hard to capture in terms of waves or tendencies. The field
has developed mostly as a subset of media and social studies, with diverse publications, while
certain tendencies of older work – such as a need for justifying fan practices - are slowly
disappearing. Nowadays scholars cover diverse fan practices. Research on fan videos is for
instance more common nowadays and includes several articles of Jenkins (notably 1992, p.
223-249) and fan scholars as Francesca Coppa. Nonetheless the field still has a lot of niches.
Publications on cosplay are very rare; it is difficult to find good literature on conventions or
differences of conventions between countries; role-playing is still not represented well and fan
dancing as para para seems entirely absent. Moreover, most of the publications focus solely
on Western series, while Japanese popular culture has become increasingly important over the
27
years and dominant in mainstream Western culture (shops; broadcasting; news) and fan
cultures: conventions and online fan communities.
This study deals with the Western readings and interpretations of a Japanese video
game as a case-study. Most Western fans will be familiar with a localized Western variant of
the product that has been translated or adapted (or censored). With that specific example this
study hopes to contribute to the influence of Japanese source-texts that are more embedded in
youth culture than a lot of the commonly studies Western texts (e.g., Harry Potter, Buffy The
Vampire Slayer, Xena: Warrior Princess, Star Trek, The X-Files). Studies on this are
relatively scarce and tend to focus on the adaptation of anime, card games or sentai of the
nineties and later (e.g., Jenkins, 2006a; Hills, 2002b; Ito, 2003). By focusing on Tales of
Symphonia this thesis will also depict how Japanese products as games are handled by
corporations and how they influence Western audiences.
Self-reflexivity: The researcher as a fan

Fan studies is a field mostly explored by scholars who are themselves fans or have friends or
family that are. Through their own practices or conversations they realize fandoms are worth
examining since they have so many sides that are yet to be analyzed. Thereby it has a personal
touch that is often seen as a taboo in cultural studies, which subjected it to similar critiques as
for instance gender studies, a discipline which has grown by the interest and activity of
feminist scholars themselves. As the previous history depicts, fan studies is relatively young
and mostly a subset of audience studies that has not gained that much ground yet. The
subjective dimension of this research and my own position in it will be dealt with in this
paragraph. I shall focus strongly on the strange dichotomy that is made between the personal
(fan) dimension of research and the academic practice, and question whether avoiding or
over-explaining this duality might not be the actual fallacy here.
To justify their own touch in fan research, scholar-fans tend to invent terms and
concepts to describe their methodology. I employ scholar-fan here because it is a neutral way
to describe the scholar who is also a fan and does not have an apparent semantic history as
other terms to describe this identity. It has been used by Busse and Hellekson (2006) as a term
to depict the authors of their collection of essays. Indeed, coming out in fan studies is taken
for granted and various terms have been coined to describe this tension. One of the most
important terms used to exhibit the scholar-fan, firstly, is Aca/fan, a term by Hills (2002a) and
popularized by Jenkins. As he describes in the first entry of his blog Confessions of an
Aca/Fan (2006c) this refers to: ‘a hybrid creature which is part fan and part academic (hence
28
the current, provisional title of this blog). The goal of my work has been to bridge the gap
between these two worlds. I take it as a personal challenge to find a way to break cultural
theory out of the academic bookstore ghetto and open up a larger space to talk about the
media that matters to us from a consumer's point of view’.
Jenkins underlines that he is part of certain fandoms and that his knowledge is a
dialogue with the fans, which has led to positive fan reviews and even a kind of American
cultus around his Textual Poachers (1992) which is still being distributed a lot amongst fans.
However, this position also led to accusations, as Jenkins describes in an interview with Matt
Hills (2006a, notably pp. 10-18): as an academic fan he was seen as being too laudatory of
fans as a means of self-justification, or as ‘slumming’ it by fans themselves, a fake, a fraud, an
imposter posing as one of them. Jenkins does not take such criticism too harshly: it is apparent
he has been a fan since his youth and that his writings are a dialogue with those communities.
The kind of empirical research performed in fan studies is frequently described as
auto-ethnography (Busse, Hellekson: 2006, pp. 24-25; Hills, 2002a). This means the scholar-
fan analyses himself as a subject as well to gain more insights. As Hills describes it (id., p.
72): ‘the tastes, values, attachments, and investments of the fan and the academic-fan are
placed under the microscope of cultural analysis’. Ergo, it refers to position the researcher has
when he or so belongs to a certain group (though, as mentioned, it is hard to describe ‘fans as
one group) or at least is familiar with these practices already. It answers to bias in cultural
studies: subjective tendencies in research should be suspected, rather than taken for granted.
The researcher here is a native. Where the objective observer in cultural studies is seen as
someone that should be an outsider - communicating with the natives while upholding his
authority - the scholar-fan covers his feet in the mud and does not mind joining in on the
ritualistic dance.
I would like to add here that there is a difference between auto-ethnography and
participant observation. The latter is still an outsider who tries to unravel information and
insights by mingling and joining in the field to some degree. By contrast the auto-
ethnographer does not start by believing he is a tabula rasa: someone who is thrown in a new
environment and is smitten by how awkward everything seems. Indeed, there is a
methodological difference between auto-ethnographical tendencies in fan studies (e.g.,
Jenkins, 1992; Hills, 2002a) and the works that are made by someone who is unaware of fan
practices and has just discovered this new field (e.g., Bacon-Smith, 1992). Interestingly, the
difference in outcome, theory and quality of both types of work are not that big, by which I do
not mean to suppose that methodology is overrated. However it seems to help to make your
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position explicit and from both sides (being unaware as well as aware of these practices) one
can gain valuable insights.
Moreover, participant observation can easily lead to similar conclusions once you are
familiar with the practices. The auto-ethnographer might be a step ahead in being familiar
with some practices, but each case-study also provides him with new insights and requires the
liberty of letting go of some presuppositions. In a recent publication Hills (2007) also goes
into the similarities between various disciplines and the way the researcher frames his
interventions. Particularly interesting is his emphasis on the fact that every scholar - not only
in media studies but also in art, literature, politics and so on – is a participant. You are always
a member of the audience. Media studies may be depicted as being a different kind of
discipline, and subjected to critique, but it is impossible not to be engaged at some level. A
literary critic cannot judge without reading the book, and the same could be argued for a
broad spectrum of cultural studies.
That still leaves the oddity of auto-ethnography largely unexpressed. I would suggest
the problem arises not when the scholar-fan goes into a new case or is forced to present
himself; it arises when he deals with a case he is very connected with and personal experience
and reflection are a wealth of information to be used. How to use that source properly? That is
when the actual practice of auto-ethnography is questioned and the loyalty of the scholar-fan
is at stake. This dichotomy can lead to strange research, as Hills (2002a, pp. 65-89) shows,
where at some point a more fannish discourse overthrows the analytical one or where one tries
to self-justify one’s actions constantly. Hills also describes that there is a danger of pouring
one’s experiences into a narrative mode, as well as a tendency to narcissistic closure where
the scholar-fan thinks he has analyzed himself thoroughly and ends the reflection with a
(false) sense of fulfilment (id., notably 71-76). Other dangers include creating a dichotomy
between the experiences of the self and other, as well as adapting theory to a scholar’s own
preferences.
Hills uses good examples to elaborate on these fallacies, yet the solution he provides
to perform good auto-ethnography seems feeble. To train one’s self-reflexivity Hills suggests
to make a list of all the fandoms (and to keep everything open, also interests) the scholar has
ever been in (id., 81-89). When the list is done, the scholar should connect the texts and see
how they relate to each other and parts of your life. This creates a similar sense of narrativity
as the one he argued against, moreover, it is prone to a lot of memory lacks and nostalgic
feelings that reshape the experience. When trying it out myself I found that the list became
extremely long and hard to handle. Also, I could not visualize anymore with certainty why I
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liked certain series when I was twelve years old. I also found it difficult to judge, for instance,
where things related to my tastes or my background. Did I like Star Trek because my dad
liked it or did it genuinely appeal to me? How do nostalgic feelings for content you used to
love fit in this? The more you think about all of this, the fuzzier it gets. A retrospective,
narrative element is integrated that is more suspect than the spontaneous knowledge you had
before you started the list.
Auto-ethnography can be a misleading concept since in fact all ethnography
incorporates a dimension of self-reflexivity. Indeed, some may choose to avoid the term
altogether. Though Jenkins is often portrayed as someone who performs auto-ethnography, he
himself states he does not perceive it this way (Jenkins, 2006a). What he wants to foreground
rather than his own experience is the dialogue he tries to facilitate between academia and
fans. ‘It’s not auto-ethnography: in a sense it’s simply an outing, an exposure of myself in my
normal fan activity’ (id., p. 14). His method has always involved being responsive to fans,
letting them talk, even edit his drafts, or go in dialogue with them in his publications (e.g.,
Green et al., 1998). This responsiveness is another way of describing the way the research can
position himself in the research, though in practice it might overlap with auto-ethnography.
In my opinion auto-ethnography as a term is not that telling. It suggests a use of
personal experience as a resource that I to some degree even oppose. I try to be aware of my
position in the research without leaning too much on my own experiences as a fan. In this
particular case-study, that deals with fanfiction and is specified to Tales of Symphonia, there
is a different tenor than other fandoms or fan practices, which I constantly tried to mediate
between. I want to foreground the specific elements of this case and in general, try to reflect
on authorship. I find it important that the scholar-fan stays focussed throughout the research,
especially when observing, and tries to reflect on what he experiences, feels and not be afraid
to put that in words. Older experiences as a fan might come in handy, but keeping an open
mind is the best solution, without instating a false sense of surprise. Rather previous
knowledge can be used to make hypotheses and find interesting entry points in the data.
As for outing myself and my affinity with the subject: I have been engaged in
fanfiction for a brief time when I was sixteen and chose to specialize in writing original prose.
It gave me more liberty to try out a more artistic, fragmentary style of writing, and to write in
my native tongue, Dutch, which made all the difference. My sister started to write fanfiction
somewhat later and has never stopped. Throughout the years I have written quite a lot, but
hardly published any prose out of perfectionism. I make comics and drawings, some of which
are fan art in honour of certain series. I have spent more time on that the last years, when I
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joined a doujinshi circle (an artist group that self-publishes fan comics and original works). I
also cosplay and enjoy organizing skits at conventions. To give an output to notions that are
only marginally (if at all) related to this thesis, I host a blog since January (see Lamerichs,
2009). The blog is an effort to conceptualize all kinds of ideas and drafts.
Method
I perceive my method not as auto-ethnographical, though it is hard to deny I benefit from my
knowledge as a fan. Rather I would like to describe it as responsive, in that I actively
communicate with the community at certain sites (e.g., interviews, conventions and
information of contacts I had before I started the thesis). Online I opted not to communicate
with fanfiction authors or role-players that much, since it would interfere their practice.
During this research I try to stay critical of what I do and realize I have some blind spots.
Although my main case-study is a new field for me since I do not participate in that fandom, I
am familiar with many of the practices involved.
Empirically I combine in-depth interviews with virtual ethnography. To explore the
notion of authorship in relation to fanfiction I hope to discuss the phenomena personally with
fan readers and writers. I have covered five in-depth interviews and talked to various fans
about the subject. Some of these interviewees are enrolled in the fandom that forms my case
study: Tales of Symphonia, a Japanese game released both in the USA as well as Europe.
Tales of Symphonia has a lot of franchise: a sequel, a manga series, animes, action figures and
much more, which enables me to discuss the concept of transmedia storytelling as well. To
gain more in-depth information and perhaps new interviewees I have arranged to give a talk
and host a discussion group at Animecon 2009 (Theaterhotel Almelo, 1-3 May) and hope to
check some of my claims there.
I selected various websites I wanted to observe. Firstly, Fanfiction.net - the largest
host for fanfiction online – features nearly five thousands stories of Tales of Symphonia, a
wealth of material. To keep it tangible I checked the updated fanfiction of Tales of Symphonia
and the given feedback from 16 February to 1 April, 2009. These were roughly 220 stories,
many of which were updated frequently with new chapters. Secondly, I explored the game’s
roleplaying communities on LiveJournal, notably Luceti, a multi-fandom roleplaying blog
renowned for its Tales of Symphonia cast. I analyzed this community from 1 April to 16 May
after which I entered the role-play to gather specific data on the application and to understand
more of the practice in terms of interaction and writing. The fanfiction I read on top of that
depended on the interviewees, their own fiction and the content they recommended to me. For
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more insights, fiction and meta-textual discussions I occasionally explored the official Namco
site’s board of Tales of Symphonia, that I did not treat as a field for observation due to lack of
time, but more as a source to back up the data I elicited.
The interviews provide substantial, secondary data that could not be derived from
virtual platforms as easily. The interviews allow me to elaborate on the personal dimensions
of fanfiction and role-playing: the identity of the author and relation to his characters,
investment in a series or game, the dynamics of fan cultures and the overlap with original
fiction or other fan practices. My interviewees are diverse, as you can see in their profiles in
the appendix. All of them are Dutch, because they were conducted in person and not via for
instance the chat-programme Skype. As I already stated, I had the liberty of posing questions
online via Aim, where I observed the chat sessions of a group of role-players.
In this thesis the specific practices of fans are highlighted, which add up to an original
text not only out as a creative pursuit, but also as an emotional one. I also take into account
how fans describe themselves and their identity as related to the source-text and fandom. This
differs from a large amount of SNS-sites that do have active users, but explore social relations
rather than fiction. Since I deal with fan practices that have a very specific terminology, I also
appended a glossary in which the fan concepts are briefly captured. All of the concepts are
explained in the thesis itself as well, but since some of them are recurring it is convenient for
any reader to have the definitions in one list as well.
The next chapters each have a particular angle. The second chapter deals with the
history of storytelling and authorship, how this afflicted our image of the author and the text,
and how new forms of fiction renegotiate this. The third chapter focuses on transformative
authorship and fanfiction that bridge original and pre-existing content. The emphasis here is
on the creative reworking of texts, the community in which this takes place and the way
readers value fanfiction authors and their texts. The fourth chapter deals with the performative
element in fanfiction which is explained via textual role-playing. Authors are highlighted here
that act out existing characters and construct a certain portrayal of them. The last chapter is a
conclusion that bridges transformative and performative authorship and describes how fan-
authors redefine authorship in the whole.
33
34
Chapter 2
Bards, authors, scribblers
A history of authorship and its consequences
Once upon a time there was a storyteller

And this storyteller was the keeper of cultural heritage in the days of old. Script had not been
invented yet, or only in a very basic pictorial form, and thus all messages were passed orally
from one person to the other, from one generation to the next. They were wrapped in songs,
ballads, folk tales, and chants and told in front of an audience. The storyteller could be a bard,
a priest, a traveller or your grandmother. A tale was repeated many times by many people
living in all kinds of places. Each time the tale became a little bit different. Until, finally, it
was another tale, shared in a different culture, in different time.
This type of culture - a system in which narratives depend on oral messages and
testimonies - is called oral culture. We usually define the development of writing systems in
an oral culture, scribal culture and print-culture. In Western countries we have left the oral
phase behind us long ago when script was invented, but other societies still communicate this
way. In oral cultures there was only a storyteller, who became a narrator much later in
Western culture, which will be highlighted in this section. But who was this storyteller and
what was so specific about his narratives?
When we think back of oral cultures we might be reminded of the Greece times and
the blind Homer, who travelled to collect and share stories, which were written down much
later, perhaps even by a different individual, or multiple individuals. This might be a highly
typical example, but it immediately sets a tone of what orality is about. In oral cultures stories
are told and preserved through sharing and retelling. As such, an oral culture is repetitive in
nature. In an older yet still insightful essay Walter Benjamin (1937) wrote that ‘storytelling is
always the art of repeating stories, and this art is lost when the stories are no longer retained’.
Linguistically oral stories are less polished than the written word, often redundant and less
structured. The storyteller pays specific attention to actual surroundings and everyday life.
When describing his tales the storyteller takes his audience in account. He can see his
listeners, pose them questions and steer the story in ways they like. Indeed Walter Ong (1982)
shows how highly episodic these storytellers work to improvise the narrative, sometimes for
the audience sake, sometimes because it is a better way to memorize content. They tap from
different reservoirs and think of multiple ways in which a story can unfold. ‘In fact, an oral
35
culture has no experience of a lengthy, epic-size or novel-size climactic linear plot,’ Ong
describes and he exemplifies this by pointing out the absence of a logical chronology in,
amongst others, The Illiad (id., p. 140). The structure of these stories was a consequence of
their combination in a scribal manuscript. The absence of a clear plot forms a difference with
the later writer, who does not improvise, but plans his story carefully, thereby freezing it.
Those who read print adjust to a tale. In oral storytelling, the opposite happens (e.g., id., 45).
The performative element here is not just crucial for the audience’s sake. A storyteller
relies strongly on his performative qualities. For instance, in the way a story is brought
rhythm plays a role, as a format to perform a tale as well as a strategy for reminding it (id., p.
57-67). During his performance the storyteller also depends on gestures whereas a writer does
not. Storytelling also means showing: working with your body and hands to rhetorically make
it more convincing and entertaining. ‘Storytelling, in its sensory aspect,’ Benjamin (1937)
explains, ‘is by no means a job for the voice alone. Rather, in genuine storytelling the hand
plays a part which supports what is expressed in a hundred ways with its gestures trained by
work’.
In scribal culture or manuscript culture, a writing system is invented and manuscripts
are made by certain privileged literate citizens, varying from elitists to monks. In the history
of Western countries this phase mostly refers to the Middle Ages where manuscripts were
used to preserve information by the copying of these texts by hand. Going to a manuscript and
reading it was usually a journey by itself, almost like a pilgrimage (e.g., Landow, 2006, p.
100). Upon arrival the reader had to invest some good time in understanding the hand writing
and the many abbreviations. Scribal culture and its manuscripts were frequently associated
with religion and magic (Ong, 1982, p. 92). Since most people could not read, the manuscript
was perceived as a rare artefact, mediated by those who could read as a kind of priests or
gurus. To some degree each manuscript was indeed unique since the copies varied a lot
(Landow, 2006, pp. 99-103).
Writing manuscripts was an effort that especially in its early days involved rare tools
and hard work rather than just jotting something down on paper as we do now. Until the 19th
century literature relied mostly on scholarly or academic life. When reading manuscripts this
could also be retraced in terms of style. For instance, literary styles were heavily oritical back
then: formal, rhetorical and similar to lectures (Ong, 1982, pp. 92-94). They were meant to be
read out loud and written with an imaginary listening audience in mind. The overlap between
orality and writing also becomes apparent in other features of this culture, for instance, silent
reading did not exist. Readers read these texts out loud. Indeed Ong emphasizes that
36
‘manuscript cultures remained largely oral-aural even in the retrieval of material preserved in
texts’ (id., p. 117).
Importantly Walter Ong makes a difference here between oral cultures that feature
primary orality and residual orality. The primary stage categorizes those cultures in which
there is no writing system and all communication goes by telling and showing, as I described
when I referred to oral cultures. Residual orality, however, depicts societies in which there is
a writing system that is not mastered by the entire population but by cultural elite or
professional scribers. In scribal cultures mass illiteracy and writing often go hand in hand
because texts cannot be distributed so easily. In Ong’s terminology orality coincides with
other cultural forms: scribal culture for instance does not exclude features of the oral mode
such as reading out loud and imagining a text orated.
In print-culture this changes when press technology assures that texts can actually
circulate in multiple copies rapidly. This happened in Western countries in the late eighteenth
century when printing was refined and became widespread. The Gutenberg Press (ca. 1450)
was already invented earlier, but it took some time for printing to be applied as such. Printing
technologies had various consequences on the practices of reading and writing. Firstly,
printing enabled widespread copies which enabled new genres meant for a mass audience
such as newspapers. The circulation of texts directly influenced the literacy of the population,
their education and need to be educated. Whereas manuscripts were often highly functional -
aimed at the producer and selective educated readers - printing became consumer-oriented
since a copy was far less work and could be distributed (Ong, 1982, p. 120).
Print-culture also redefined the way stories were made and published, because it
changed texts into commodities, dependent on an audience and market. Publishers started to
arise, critics and institutes that had to calculate what readers expected to get out of certain
publication. Economics started to play a role. Because reproduction was made possible,
authority and copyright became an issue. An author had to be recognized for the intellectual
property he had created, in part because he now had to deal with the market mill: publishers,
honorarium and more. Authors’ rights were grounded in eighteenth century laws (such as the
Statute of Anne, 1709). The related notions of authenticity and originality dating from the
Romantics are seen as a consequence of this by historians of print (Landow, 2006, p. 102).
But print-culture did not only create the need for copyright, it also secluded texts and
changed them. A text became autonomous, frozen and sequential: organized in a strict, linear
storyline. Where a text used to be dynamic, edited and had multiple versions, it was now
made solid by its multiple copies. A writer had to be selective and revise his products with the
37
help of established editors. This system made new formats possible, such as the novel, a
carefully constructed linear story or specific popular genres as the detective, which lean on
textual suspense and a climactic build-up (Ong, 1982, pp. 136-152). Reading then became
what we know it to be, an act by an individual in silence. The reader sits by his fire place and
the author is only an abstract persona for him, perhaps even a genius that crafted an
extraordinary work. Where the storyteller used to guide his audience when he performed the
tale, the modern reader makes sense of the content by himself (see also Atwood, 2002).
By enabling copyright and authorship, the image or persona of an author was also
constructed in the Romantic era. Where we take the author for granted nowadays, he is a
rather late phenomenon in the history of stories and writing, just like the artist and genius, all
defined by their seemingly exceptional skills (Atwood, 2002; Foucault, 1984; Ong, 1982, pp.
131). The author stepped up a pedestal, away from the actual people that he could still reach
when he was a mere storyteller. Not just his books had to be one of a kind: the Romantic
author had to be one of a kind himself, a true creator, writing what meant something to him.
Self-expression became a key value and stories became equated with individual narratives
rather than collective endeavours, written by a distant genius, instead of one of our own. ‘The
birthplace of the novel is the solitary individual,’ Benjamin (1937) writes grimly, ‘who is no
longer able to express himself by giving examples of his most important concerns, is himself
uncounseled, and cannot counsel others.’
In the twentieth century there followed a debate over authorship, anticipated by more
formalistic approaches to text (e.g., New Criticism) which paid attention to the text by itself,
without extratextual information. Authorship was put on the agenda notably by structuralists
as Barthes. Specifically Barthes’ essay Death of the Author (1967) influenced the way author-
reader relationships were explored in literary studies. The essay argues against authorial
intentionality as a way of interpreting texts. Biographical information or interpretations of the
author should not be way of interpreting the text, rather this should rely on its readers as
active interpreters. A text had to be perceived as a cultural product, dependent on conventions
and other texts.
Barthes’ text inspired Foucault to write a lengthier essay in 1969 on authorship and the
way the idea of an author regulates readers. He argues that earlier texts by Barthes and
Derrida - though they made ‘the death of the author’ apparent - never really depicted how
authorship concretely functions. Foucault analyzes how the author operates as a cultural
phenomenon and influences our interpretation. First he goes into the author’s name, which
classifies texts. A name becomes a way of labelling and depicting a work in terms of literary
38
history. Then he discusses the author function: conventions surrounding the author that
influence the ways texts are made, distributed and read. He specifically coins four
characteristics of the author function: Firstly, the author function came into existence because
authors’ rights were required to show who owned a text, which was important when books
were circulated more and fiction became property. Secondly, the author function does not
affect all texts in the same way, for instance, we would not call someone who writes letters an
author. Thirdly, the construction of an author is troublesome and differs from the construction
of an individual identity: he is a regulating principle. Thinking a certain text is written by a
certain author will affect our image of it and even solve inconsistencies in it. Lastly, the
author is not the actual person but more of an alter ego, a persona.
Foucault ends with the remark that authorship is a limitation for textual interpretation
and that it might vanish altogether. But what will happen if the author really dies? A new
discourse will arise, Foucault predicts, ‘in such a manner that fiction and its polysemous texts
will once again function according to another mode, but still with a system of constraint’
(1984, p. 119). The envisioned system in which the author is absent will also lack authority.
‘All discourses, whatever their status, form, value, and whatever the treatment to which they
will be subjected, would then develop in the anonymity of a murmur’ (id.). The kind of
textual production online reminds us of Foucault’s conclusion.
Electronic writing
Quite recently the internet changed our perspective on writing, not only by enabling new
technologies and media for writing, but also by providing platforms where everyone can
upload his or her texts. Writing has become less dependent on print technology now, and
indeed, many authors argue that although we still have print, we are at the start of a new
paradigm or discourse (e.g., Ong, 1982; Landow, 2006). The internet has opened up texts in
various ways in opposition to the print-culture in which texts were fixed, closed and the
author remained distant.
As mentioned in the first chapter, the internet nowadays includes more participatory
sites (e.g., SNS-sites, social networking sites such as Facebook) with comment functions.
These also provide us with a large amount of texts that are actually responses of readers.
Typical examples include sites as YouTube and Wikipedia, and practices as podcasting.
These applications are usually covered under the umbrella term Web 2.0 (since 2001) hinting
at the changed atmosphere online that encourages interaction and thus makes the internet an
even more open, active, democratic platform. Though older technologies such as blogging
39
provide somewhat similar interaction, Web 2.0 depicts convergence at a much higher,
multimedial level and embedded in different systems. It thereby constructs a more active
audience by making readers/viewers into contributors. When we deal with electronic texts,
this new tension between producers and consumers should be emphasized as well. Landow
manages to capture these changes briefly: ‘The characteristic flexibility of this reader-centred
information technology means, quite simply, that writers have a much greater presence in the
system, as potential contributors and collaborative participants but also as readers who choose
their own paths through the materials’ (2006, p. 45). It would however be too easy just to
refer to readers as contributors in this communication. The relation between the author, reader
and text changes here in various ways.
Firstly, the electronic text relies less on institutionalized systems as the printed text.
When a reader wants to comment on it, the text and author are often within reach, whereas in
print-culture one has to go through different media or critics to give feedback and receive it.
The comments on the text are not annotations or plenary texts but actually manage to become
a part of the text through hyperlinks/comment systems that create a node or open text, rather
than a disclosed text with subtexts (e.g., Landow, 2006, p. 99). The secluded, linear nature of
the print text now makes way for a text that is less hierarchical. Naturally we should add that
in print-culture there also exist possibilities to make more open texts for instance via footnotes
that create texts-within-texts that one can optionally read (e.g., Aarseth, 1997, pp. 7-9;
Landow, 2006, p. 120-121). Mind that footnotes are still sealed off from the main text, while
annotations within electronic texts establish less of a hierarchy because they are linked to the
content and become part of the text.
Secondly, electronic texts are less dependent on editors and large publishers. Note that
this already changed when low-cost copy machines enabled small-press printing, as for
example the fanzine scene has shown. We see that new editor mechanisms arise to assure that
even grassroots publishing online has the desired quality for a certain platform. Through
feedback of readers or appointed editors a lot of content is refined, polished and cleaned (e.g.,
chapter 3 deals with the beta-reading system in fan communities). Despite the opportunity to
upload every work in progress, most writers will also reflect on this. Despite the varying skills
and capacities of authors online, they will try to create the best text they can and perhaps
switch to another site or host when they have developed more skills.
Furthermore an electronic text has a more fluid nature because it can be edited,
removed and updated at will. It is less bounded by a paper publication that freezes it for a long
time. Printed publications make a work more permanent. That is not to say that manuscripts
40
cannot be edited and prints cannot be updated in a second version, but the possibilities are far
more limited than electronically. Indeed for a writer it is almost impossible to rewrite an
entire narrative after it has been published, though some writers of fiction also changed their
second editions immensely (e.g., the Dutch novel Nooit meer slapen by W.F. Hermans). In
print-culture such moves tend to annoy critics who are concerned about which narrative was
the most authentic. In contrast, when discussing electronic writing it is taken more or less for
granted that texts can be rewritten at a certain point and uploaded again. Whereas print-culture
forecloses a text, electronic texts remain dynamic. Thereby the text also looses its fixed,
autonomous, canonical identity which poses new problems in terms of how culture circulates
and what its legacy should be (e.g., Brownen, 2005).
Lastly, online texts not only provide a reader with the possibility to interact, but also to
influence a story. By commenting on fiction that is still being written, the reader can have an
input in the narrative itself. Certain online platforms as forums have also stimulated creative
collaborations between artists all over the world. For instance, it is now possible to write a
little bit, post it and let others continue the narrative. One can write a chapter in Word, let
another author write another chapter and circulate all of this far more easily than earlier. As a
communication medium the internet gives immediate possibilities that writing with a
typewriter or by hand did not allow. A Word document can be sent in a few seconds to
someone else who can continue writing the text. It cannot be denied that the internet and
computer-mediated technology make collaboration more easy and stimulate the transforming
of and attributing to existing texts. In short, the modern author is no longer the central,
dominant figure he used to be, but is becoming more of a team player.
For some critics electronic writing and reading evokes a certain fear that something
artistic is lost in the margins. A vague sense of an aura or something in the reader’s
experience that might change the more we store and read our texts online. A notable advocate
of this is Sven Birkerts (2006) who fears that electronic writing and publishing might not only
afflict the quality of writing, but also the distribution of stories that are worthwhile and the
identity of the reader altogether. He foresees a culture of superficial reading, with an
overproduction of non-fiction, while media such as movies attract a bigger audience for
fiction (e.g., p. 194). He argues that reading experience online is a fully different, less
desirable, experience than reading mediated by books (notably, pp. 117-133). Printed
literature in his opinion allows immersion into a private world, close-reading and self-
reflection whereas electronic posts are immaterial and harder to read. The fact that electronic
writing consists of data rather than tangible print, makes it ghostlike and transparent which in
41
turn detaches the reader. ‘Nearly weightless though it is, the word printed on a page is a
thing,’ he argues (p. 154).
The copy or text on the internet is portrayed as a trickster, a ghost, by Birkerts. He
creates a dichotomy between the print version - that is authentic and material – and the
electronic text. Nonetheless, we should remind ourselves that books are also technological
copies, just like these digital copies. Writing in print is mediated, just like writing with a pen
or electronic writing (e.g., Ong, 1982, pp. 80-83; Landow, 2006, p. 46). Moreover, though an
online text seems to lack place, time and authenticity - since it can be dispersed and edited
easily - it has a specific topological dimension (see also Groys, 2003). The digital copy is
stored in a database, as a fixed, albeit virtual space. Theorists as Birkerts may perceive the
digital realm as immaterial, but the same kind of stocking and storing is performed there when
compared to material copying.
Material dimensions aside a digital copy is easier to preserve since it can circulate
well, meaning there are many possible owners of the same digital product. Though in print
culture one could hypothetically create infinite copies as well, in practice this is impossible.
As Landow (2006) explains: ‘One does not encounter many of these issues when producing
print editions because matters of scale and economy decide or foreclose them in advance’ (p.
118). Storing and preserving several versions also becomes easier via new technologies. For
instance, drafts of manuscripts were often unpreserved or hard to get by, while nowadays
digital media preserve various versions. Where an author used to adapt his written version,
scribble in the margins or cross words in frustration, nowadays an author often saves various
versions so he can go back without rewriting the whole thing.
With this electronic writing it also seems we are slowly stepping outside the print-
culture paradigm again which perceived a text as closed and linear. The open text, possibly
spread over several platforms and media, is by itself intertextual. Importantly intertextuality
only became an issue due to print-culture, where it became necessary to remark that texts,
despite their seemingly autonomous character, rely on other texts (Ong, 1982, p. 131). In
electronic writing the text becomes dependent on intertext by hyperlinks, other texts and
comment functions. With that the authority of the printed text starts to crumble and it seems
authorship needs to be reconsidered altogether. The following paragraphs will focus more on
problems that arise out of this new tensions between authors and readers online, by
discussing: firstly, active audience groups in general; the discrepancy between creators of the
source-text and fan-authors and lastly, ownership by depicting the legal debates around
transformative works. The specific practice of fanfiction and its creative/social community
42
will be dealt with in chapter 3, which describes and analyzes the transformative practices of
fans while chapter 4 focuses on the performative dimension thereof.
Think about it: Reception as an active process

When depicting a contemporary active audience, fans are surely one of the better examples.
Fan writers feel a deep affinity with certain stories and a need to do more with this fiction
than just consume it. Indeed transformative works altogether stem from the motivation to
flesh out a certain text that has captured one’s imagination vividly. The writer wants to
explore the world, its characters or the plot more thoroughly and share his interpretation with
others. One wonders what the narrative is outside the actual written text, how it continues,
how some characters or worlds came to be. This reader’s wish to explore a text more will be
dealt with here. It will show that the reworking of texts is part of certain responses readers
have towards texts and is not aligned with any medium whatsoever, but with fiction in
general.
In literary theory the reader-response criticism nuances on these matters by focusing
on the reader’s experience and reception of a text. Notably Wolfgang Iser (1974; 1976)
provides inspiring views on how the reader actualizes the text, ergo, is consciously given full
meaning by him. Texts, he argues, are not a formal thing as written down by the author; rather
they are heavily dependent on the reader and his world view. Each reader will interpret a text
differently because he has a different cultural repertoire, taste and set of lived experiences.
The expectations of what a text will be about, or should be about, will also differ for each
individual and will be restructured when the reader rereads a text. A text is a constant bridging
between the familiar – other fiction and experiences – and the unfamiliar, the new experience
and content that this text provides.
A text is thus always a discovery of the unfamiliar and strange, and of your own
imagination and mind set. The text as we perceive it is not the one penned down but
something different altogether, a dialogue between reader and fiction. Though the writer
provides a kind of potential text, it is up to us how we imagine it. Iser uses the term implied
reader to describe this which describes ‘both the prestructuring of the potential meaning by
the text, and the reader’s actualization of this potential through the reading process’ (1974, xii,
see also Iser, 1976, p. 50-67). To some degree the text as read is thus partly yours, since it
heavily depends on your own imagination and is not equal to the written text or text-du-auteur
(see also Bootz, 2005). The text is transformed by the reader already. As Iser states: ‘The fact
that completely different readers can be differently affected by the ‘reality’ of a particular text
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is ample evidence of the degree to which literary texts transform reading into a creative
process that is far above mere perception of what is written’ (1974, p. 279). The text is thus
not something visual or material, but virtual, dependent on our mind set.
Furthermore, a text is highly dynamical. Throughout our reading we adapt to the text
and how we experience it, both fictionally as well as physically: we may look back and
connect little bits of the text; we may miss elements because we are distracted; we take a
liking of certain characters and perhaps skim through parts in which they are absent. During
the reading process some alternatives become more plausible while other lines are excluded.
Our expectations can be completely shattered, yet this surprise can be aesthetically pleasing
(id., p. 287-288). The experience and entertainment value of a text varies per person and the
way it is read as well.
Reading a text thus also means revising it. There is no ideal reader, only a reader with
a certain disposition and taste that may take a liking in this text and appreciate elements of it.
The text as read is constructed out of bits and pieces from the actual text, our culture and
lives. More problematic would be other forms of fiction, for instance television, where the
fiction provides visual information. There the environment blends less with the things one is
familiar with. Still, a similar practice is at hand there when it comes down to thinking about
the narrative or recapturing it after a viewing. Where the writer has left us gaps in the series or
background details, or where a setting is left off-screen, one is triggered and starts to wonder.
This sense of wonder is the start of each form of fanfiction, in which writers display their own
imagination, write it down and share it for each and all. A text is always a network and
interplay between the audience and the producers, but within fanfiction this dialogue becomes
visible and tangible.
What has been described here can also be captured in the term polysemantic (id., 285)
or polysemic (e.g., Sandvoss, 2005, p. 123-153). A text can be interpreted in a multitude of
ways, as many as there are readers of a text, or, I would even argue, even far more ways. Each
rereading or dialogue about the text will alter one’s view of it. Throughout the text we
negotiate its details, the conflicting meanings and adjust our opinion. These ideas of multiple
meanings and the inclusion and exclusion of certain elements are not at ease with the
consistent image of a text we want to end up with. A text is fragmentary, shady and
sometimes provocative. We imagine what goes by unformulated. Somewhere between
consistency and multiple meanings the reader balances to find his way in the story.
The act of reading always involves the construction of a story and is never a passive
deed. However, that does not mean that all texts affect us in the same way, indeed, there may
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even be a huge difference between genres and how people respond to them. Scholars like
Fiske have argued that a popular text may actualize a reader more than a literary one. A
popular text is for Fiske something more accessible to the people and something that also
belongs to the people. Certain texts are made popular because they are well received and
appeal to a larger crowd. In a narrative sense they also differ from more literary texts. For
instance, a popular text often has far more gaps that are purposely written into it (1989, p.
104). Indeed cliff-hangers, gaps and suspense are popular plot devices to make the reader
speculate, continue watching and feel a sense of attachment. Another key feature of pop-
culture – one that specifically appeals to fanfiction authors – is the flatness of characters and
the fact that a reader can attribute more qualities to them or again, fill the blanks in the text
and think about why, for instance, a character came to be as he is, be it cynical or comical.
Marie-Laure Ryan argues that certain genres or media trigger our imagination more
easily than others. For instance, it is often hard to speculate about poetry, because the form is
more verbal and less occupied with content or narrativity than for instance prose (2001, pp.
92-93). She argues that a stereotypical text - roughly comparable to Fiske’s notion of the
popular as being cliché and familiar - allows more immersion: ‘The reader can bring in more
knowledge and sees more expectations fulfilled than in a text that cultivates a sense of
estrangement’ (id., p. 97). Ideally a reader engages with a text better when he needs to do less
effort. Certain media demand more effort to interpret the story behind them which can be for
instance more conceptual rather than full-fledged. This is why an audience connects with
these narratives differently and in a less productive fashion. Nonetheless Ryan argues that
‘immersion can also be the result of a process that involves an element of struggle and
discovery’ (id.). Sometimes when a reader has to do more hard work, a story will appeal to
him more, but this differs per person and text strongly.
Readers thus construct a fictional, imaginative world out of a set of signs. They will
identify with it and eventually become attached to this fiction. Immersion is a key concept to
describe the way a (fan) audience bounds with a text emotionally. This means that a text is not
only actualized, but can also appeal to a person so strongly that the medium disappears and
the virtual story becomes real in a sense. Notably Marie-Laure Ryan (2001) and Janet Murray
(1997) elaborate on this process and connect it to new forms of digital narratives as games
and hypertext. Ryan argues that these new media ‘invite the reader to imagine a world, and to
imagine it as a physical, autonomous reality furnished with palpable objects and populated by
flesh and blood individuals’ (p. 92). The text can evoke very real emotional responses with
the reader, a notion that was known even in old times when Aristotle coined the concept of
45
catharsis: the emotional turmoil of the spectator that eventually has a purifying effect. When a
favourite character dies the audience is upset and the death will be discussed not only by fans,
but also by other viewers or readers. Tearjerkers, as some drama is dubbed, are the result of
our immersion in certain fiction and its tragic elements.
This emotional involvement with a source-text and its characters is a crucial
motivation for both the writers and readers of fanfiction. Aside from the need to fill in the
blanks and interpret certain characters, one has invested in the text as a personal story world
that can be envisioned and matters. As Rebecca Moore (2005) writes in her article on this type
of fiction: ‘Teens find a world they like, befriend the characters, and move in’ (p. 16). The
pleasant feeling of being immersed in the world can continue when the reader fantasizes or
simulates more of the story and eventually jots his ideas down. Indeed a story often leads a
live of its own, even for the writer himself. Fanfiction enables different twists and turns, your
very own seasoning of a story and the ability to carry it beyond its original limits.
The fine print: The hierarchy between a creator and fans

Though a reader may have a very active role when interpreting a story – with the possibility to
create a derivative text of his own - there is still a sharp distance between the audience and the
creators of the source-text. Firstly, even in fan cultures the author or creator remains an
elevated figure in contrast to the fan writers. This creates a paradox between the collaborative
activities of fans and the view of a main text as belonging to an actual author. Secondly,
though fans become writers through their practices, the actual input they have on the source-
text is very limited, even if we are dealing with games or electronic fiction. What they
influence is the interpretation of other fans. Though fan cultures rely on an open text, there are
mechanisms that close it off again. Aside from the hierarchy between the published source-
texts and fan texts, the community relies strongly on the established information in the text
and meta-textual discussions which narrow the interpretations down.
The author is still present in a Romantic fashion as the creator of the source-text: the
one who enables the story and provides the dominant interpretation. George Lucas is a good
example of a persona many refer to when they actually mean a story world his studio
established, such as Star Wars. Indeed Matt Hills (2002) relates the cult status of Star Wars to
‘the fantasized ‘presence’ of George Lucas as creator-auteur, and as a romanticized and
‘revolutionary’ figure in the history of film’ (pp. 132). The author produces coherence and an
entry point to judge something as for instance tasteful, bad or even cult, if his work was
considered to be groundbreaking. Despite the emphasis on audience reception fan cultures
46
still refer to the author and rely on him. The directors or main writers are seen as essential to
understanding and interpreting a text, much in the fashion of authorial intentionality. To
understand a series, you first have to go through Battlestar Galactica’s Ronald D. Moore, Star
Trek’s Gene Roddenberry or X-Files’ Chris Carter. Indeed the creator may be so important
that a new product can stimulate fan activities even before it actually lounged. Note that the
question of authorial intentionality is one of literary studies that becomes more problematic
when applied to transmedial stories where different teams work on story arcs or adaptations.
However, not all media and fiction depend as much on the role of its main creator. In
games, for instance, fans pay attention to authorial intentionality in a very different way,
because there are usually large teams of writers and designers behind it. There is no one to
give the proper credit too or focus on as a central figure. Even when there is only one writer,
like in Sam and Max by Steve Purcell, a lot of fans/gamers will not refer to him but to the
studio that forges the games. The only person in the games industry who roughly forms an
equivalent for authors as J.K. Rowling would be Shigeru Miyamoto. He assured a whole new
genre of games at Nintendo and is also the main creator of titles as The Legend of Zelda and
Super Mario. Miyamoto’s views and intentions matter when it comes down to the stories, but
like George Lucas he also functions as a label when discussing things like Nintendo’s new
policies. In most cases games do not have an equivalent for the author-creator.
When interviewing fans and observing them, this creator-audience hierarchy was also
made explicit. Many fan-authors feel they only own part of the texts, such as the plot, but that
the large text does not belong to them. They emphasize that the actual author or team behind
it is the mastermind, the one they admire and pay tribute too. The characters, setting and even
certain plot elements are seen by them as belonging to companies rather than to fans. All of
them however show clear affinity to the texts on an emotional level and though they state they
do not own the texts, in conversations it becomes clear they feel connected to them. Some of
them even used the words ‘my characters’ when talked about their fanfiction.
Though originality is a strive for most of these writers, the fan-authors are also aware
that derivative fiction cannot be all that original in the first place and is only read by a happy
few. The fans see their take on characters as nothing exceptional, in most cases because their
ambition is to stay true to the main-text or, in the case of parody, stretch the features that are
already there. The authority still belongs to the author who is also perceived as the owner. In
similar fashion the fan-authors show admiration for original content or characters as
belonging to a very different creative practice, that of making actual fiction. They associate
this with creating fiction on an amateur level such as admired professionals do at a higher
47
level, creating your own characters and story world. The fan-authors I interviewed admired
this practice and saw it as something valuable, while they associated their own practice with
fandom rather than creativity. In the workshop however it became clear that some fanfiction
authors also cared a great deal about their writing and aimed to write on a higher level with
original content.
Although fans describe their authorship in a dichotomy with the actual creator in
conversations, they describe their practices very seriously and aim to master them at fullest.
Being a reader as well as a writer, a fan-author may not consciously perceive a text as
belonging to him, but may relate to characters a lot, identify with them and even depict them
as ‘his’ characters. This tension is very important and will be dealt with in the case-study as
well. At the heart of fan practices there is also a wish to connect with a source-text better
which overlaps with a sense of emotional ownership.
Indeed this is also why academics sometimes describe fanfiction as storytelling or folk
rather than in terms of authorship. Because fans rework existing stories in large groups, make
personal variations and are not professionals, they are seen as part of a kind of folk process or
grassroots culture. There stories travel and belong to everyone. As Jenkins (2000) writes:
‘Contemporary Web culture is the traditional folk process working at lightning speed on a
global scale. The difference is that our core myths now belong to corporations, rather than the
folk’. Authors’ rights stand between the fans and the creator nowadays, but what exactly are
the laws regarding fanfiction and who has authority here?
No trespassing: Legal aspects of fan fiction

Fanfiction is commonly perceived as a genre that infringes copyrights but is tolerated by
copyright holders. Corporations allow it because it is amateur work that is hard to target and
attracts highly selective readers yet surprisingly it has become more mainstream during the
years (e.g., Walter, 2003). Nonetheless some fanfiction is very well-written and can draw a
relatively large audience, when it is based on a popular source-text. Sometimes an author may
have reached such high acceptance that he feels the need to publish his work in print or
elsewhere, or pursuit an actual career in writing. Most academics tend to depict fanfiction as a
slippery slope thing legally: when it stays underground and rather invisible there is no
problem, but once money is at stake or the work becomes too famous, it may have legal
consequences (e.g., Moore, 2005). Recent research on these matters by for instance Rebecca
Tushnet however clearly states that fanfiction is legal and that there is no need for fans to hide
behind disclaimers stating they do not own a work. This unclarity is also why scholars stick
48
up for fans via groups such as The Organization for Transformative Works, Chilling Effects
or documents such as the media-related Code for Fair Use (2008). In fact, ‘transformative’
delves right into the heart of the matter by acknowledging texts that bridge original content
and reused material, thus questioning copyright law.
In the nineties, when fan sites were just starting, there was a lot of protest of
corporations against fan practices (Jenkins, 2006b, pp. 169-206; Gwenllian Jones, 2005;
Bailey, 2005, pp. 188-192). Studios such as Fox and Warner Bros sent fans cease and desist
letters, forcing them to stop their online fan practices. Fans were seen as consumers that
infringed copyrights by hosting fanfiction, snippets or images of a series. Some fans chose to
stand their ground against the corporations. Notably Henry Jenkins (id.; 2004a) wrote a
fascinating account about The Daily Prophet – a virtual newspaper inspired by Harry Potter –
whose editor stood up to a cease and desist letter by Warner Bros and won the case.
Nowadays corporations rebelling against fan practices are pretty rare, though some
writers choose to ban derivative works of their writing. Fantasy writer Robin Hobb (2005) for
instance enacted upon this right, arguing amongst others that fanfiction supposedly
encourages bad writing habits and imaginative skills. Another writer, Anne Rice, was turned
off by the fact that amateurs would have their way with her characters (Pugh, 2004). Others
are positive about fanfiction, such as Neil Gaiman (2002) who underlines his own
transformative works: ‘It's a good place to write while you've still got training wheels on -
someone else's character or worlds. […] And it's fun to head over into someone else's
playground: I've written several stories over the years set in other people's worlds (including
an episode of Babylon 5); and if I don't miss the deadline, I'm meant to be writing a Sherlock-
Holmes-meets-the-Chulhu-mythos story very soon’.
However, fans are in a strong position here: Their activities are non-profit and not
harmful to the original product (Gwenllian Jones, 2005). Studios have slowly come to realize
that working against fans and restricting their practices infringes certain audience rights too.
Reception can be both creative and critical, which is not the same as violating the rights of the
owner of a work. Furthermore, creating transformative works is not inherently a fan practice,
a lot of popular content itself is inspired by older fiction explicitly and exactly this familiarity
assures its success. Xena: Warrior Princess reworks ancient myths while Buffy The Vampire
Slayer parodies horror fiction. Nowadays rather than clinging on to their content, studios try
to encourage fan activity and convergence in all sorts of ways, even by motivating fan
practices on boards, Twitter or MySpace.
49
In general fanfiction has several legal aspects. As Jenkins (2000) explains: ‘Fan critics
might be covered by the same "fair use" protections that enable journalists or academics to
critically assess media content, or by recent Supreme Court decisions broadening the
definition of parody to include sampling. Fans do not profit from their borrowings, and they
clearly mark their sites as unofficial to avoid consumer confusion’. Let me briefly touch upon
two elements Jenkins mentions: fair use and parody law. Firstly, fair use is an American law
(17 US Code, section 107) which differs from European authors’ rights. It leans heavily on
the use of copyright material for “purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting,
teaching (including multiple copies for classroom use), scholarship, or research, is not an
infringement of copyright” (17 US Code, section 107). Whether the use of a work is fair
depends on several aspects of a work: First of all it has to be transformative, rather than
imitative, secondly, it should not compete with the actual work and its market (Chander,
Sunder, 2005). The latter is hardly ever the case when it comes down to fan practices which
only reach a small audience, but may become interesting when a writer has grown
qualitatively to such a degree that he considers publishing.
Firstly I shall explain transformative use and when exactly a work falls under that
category. Rebecca Tushnet (2007, p. 61) writes: ‘Transformative uses are uses that add new
insights or meaning to the original work, often in ways that copyright owners don’t like’. A
review can be transformative in a sense that you interpret a text and write a plenary text to
negotiate it. For a fan text this often means the plot has to be original to some degree rather
than the characters or setting. Tushnet adds: ‘Courts are more likely to find a use fair when it
comments on the underlying work – when it brings out in the open what was already present
in subtext or context’ (id., p. 62) In general all of this becomes harder when dealing with other
fan products, such as fan music videos that also take existing songs and footage (id., p. 70). In
The Netherlands and other parts of Europe, however, the legal system includes specific
authors’ rights (article 25, Auteurswet). These are a subset of moral rights and can allow an
author to press charges when a work is considered to be harmful for his image or enable
author’s heirs to ban derivative works. This law is narrower than the American way of
judging intellectual property rights.
A fan work can also fall under parody law legally. Parody law in the US and Europe
works in a similar fashion, meaning that you have the right to make derivative works such as
parody or pastiche as long as they do not compete with the actual work and are not harmful.
In the Dutch legal system this competing is called ‘concurrentiemotief’, meaning you have the
motive to undermine the actual work and its market. Whether something is actually a parody
50
or caricature or is made with ulterior motives such as slander or plagiarism can be debated.
For instance, the Russian version of Harry Potter, Tanya Grotter, was banned in The
Netherlands, but considered by its publisher to be a parody. However, the books clearly
wanted to profit from Rowling’s success. In Russia many copies were sold and Tanya Grotter
gained wide popularity. In many other countries the books were feared to be too imitative and
competitive (Gerechtshof Amsterdam 6 november 2003, LJN AN7646).
Many problems arise because authors’ rights vary per legal system. Moreover, though
the law can deal with professionals to some degree, grassroots producers are left out. Now
that the internet has made the distribution of copyright material much easier, copyright law is
under fire. Aside from taking fresh looks at fair use, creative commons are becoming more
widespread: a form of licensing that stimulates an open idea of authorship and copyright
online and offline (official website, 2009). An author can choose to license his work based on
several guidelines that allow or forbid: attribution (quoting or taking parts of a work with
proper credit for the author); non-commercial derivatives (e.g., fanfiction) or ban derivative
works that are not published under the same license as the original. Note that is a sense a form
of licensing that does not change anything in the system itself.
What is also problematic is that a lot of amateur content online is becoming more
transcultural and should fall under international property law. However, when authors’ rights
in various countries differ, judging this becomes hard. Fan products may give us new insights
in authors’ rights, but also remind us how new and underdeveloped authorship, intellectual
property rights and even print culture as such are. As discussed previously the fairly recent
Romantic discourse of the author as an owner enabled this thinking. As authorship is opened
up by new electronic platforms, or deconstructed even, there is a necessity to redefine what
content belongs to whom. In fact, the very nature of creativity as a process of being inspired
by other texts is at stake here.
Legalities become a different issue when a writer wants to publish his fanfiction on the
market. Some authors may at some point consider a career as an actual writer with original
content, or may choose to publish their fiction. In some cases this is no problem, for instance,
one author published her fanfiction of the band TATU by altering the characters names
(Viires, 2005, p. 168). Others explicitly address their passion for fanfiction in their original
works, such as the Dutch author Karin Giphart. Also, many novelizations or American comics
are written or drawn by people that started of as amateurs in the fan circuit. Most fans who
will proceed to original, published content will continue to work in similar genres (Bacon-
Smith, 1992, pp. 37-38). Interestingly, Bacon-Smith reported in the nineties that ‘publishers
51
advise women who wish to be taken seriously as science fiction writers to separate themselves
from the fanzine community’. Some listened to that while others adopted new pseudonyms,
others refuted it and remained active in fandoms. Back then it was common to think that a fan
writer could not step up, though nowadays it seems more accepted and indeed, many consider
their writing a serious occupation.
Strangely this aversion against fanfiction authors does not correspond with highly
praised postmodern literature as well. Maguire’s Wicked, Coetzee’s Foe, Randall’s The Wind
Gone Done all rework classics and are highly recommended because of this. Of course a
difference here would be that much transformative literature is emancipative and critical,
while fanfiction is commonly attached to a source-text, selective and presupposes a lot of
knowledge. Still, other examples include pastiches written by famous authors. Perhaps these
authors are not judged in a similar fashion because they base themselves on literature rather
than media or games. Deriving literature from literature is an old practice and also assures
their status as authors remains unharmed, because their used source-texts are considered
valuable cultural heritage, worthy of referencing to.
Authorship thus implies not only authority, but also a legal and emotional sense of
ownership. This chapter we have seen the origins of authorship and its consequences for
creativity, how new technologies redefined these standards and more general suppositions
about reading and writing. In the next chapters the practice of making transformative texts and
its authorial implications will be examined in detail via a case-study.
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Chapter 3
Transformative authorship: Reworking Tales of Symphonia
Can you imagine it? The many genres of fanfiction

As a genre fanfiction balances between original writing and existing content, which redefines
our concepts of authorship. In fanfiction amateur writers give pre-existing narratives an
original spin (see also, chapter 1). These stories give a fan the opportunity to participate in his
favourite story world and imagine for instance his own Sherlock Holmes mystery. The
category transformative works helps to describe these stories, a term which refers to fiction
that is derived from other texts and ‘transforms’ those. This implies that the derived fiction
partly does something original with the source-text and gives it a new interpretation. Crucial
here is that a work is not repetitive, since that qualifies as imitation but manages to redefine
the original by showing a different intent and value.
Transformative authorship depicts a reader that not only tries to make sense of the
content, but also writes his own text about it. Therefore it is partly reception and interpretation
and partly the construction of something new. In this chapter several aspects of transformative
authorship will be explored via fanfiction. To do this I first have to describe fanfiction
adequately in terms of genres, writing and the community this fan practice is a part of. After
that I shall go into the specific case-study of this thesis, Tales of Symphonia, originally a
videogame with a large group of fans. The casus will address various elements of
transformative authorship, for instance, the way fan writers tackle this source-text, personalize
it and reflect on their practices.
Fanfiction is as broad as popular culture itself. Writers often use a source-text in terms
of characters and settings, but the genre and plot can differ immensely from the original.
Diversity is a key feature of fanfiction, where everything is possible, which is also addressed
in the motto of FanFiction.net: ‘Unleash your imagination!’ A quick look at the categories of
FanFiction.net depicts everything from adventure, to comedy, to western. To structure the
huge amount of fan texts certain categories are used that are specifically inherent of fanfiction
(and other fan texts). These genres are: angst, hurt/comfort, slash, self-insertion, Mary Sue,
alternative universe and crossovers. These are actor’s terms and not all categories have their
own subsection at certain sites. For instance, FanFiction.net has a category for romance which
also includes gay romance (slash). These genres are therefore slightly ambiguous, but
important because the actors themselves use them frequently to define their fiction.
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Firstly, angst refers to fanfiction in which a state of panic, anxiety or emotional
instability is depicted. It shows a kind of malaise that many teens or adolescents go through.
In modern literature the concept is sometimes used as well, for instance to describe the
content of Kafka’s work. Angst is therefore not only a category of fanfiction, but is explicitly
addressed as a genre amongst fans and a pop-cultural theme. A fanfic can cover several
genres, for instance, it can take angst as a starting point, but develop into a romantic narrative
later on which reliefs the stage of angst. The tragic elements angst enables and its extreme
inward experience can be appealing to many young writers. Some of these writers go through
similar states of mind in their daily life or have been through these, and angst fiction can be a
way to sublime this. Others might prefer it because it also provides a ground for characters to
rethink their life, choices and world view. Angst can also be a way to explore the emotional
sides of rational or masculine characters.
Indeed angst stories often overlap with Hurt/Comfort (H/C), which refers to fanfiction
in which one character is hurt mentally or physically, which requires another character to
attend to them. This is often a way of introducing an unravelling romance between two
characters, or another more intimate relationship. It can also be a way to bring together two
characters that avidly hate each other and befriend them. In science fiction fandoms this early
genre can be traced in many fanzines that contain stories in which for instance this ploy is
used to make Kirk and Spock bound. In actual popular culture hurt/comfort themes are also a
common device to explore character relationships though it is not a genre there as such.
Slash are stories featuring homosexual pairings, usually with characters that are
undefined or heterosexual in the source-text. Femmeslash refers to the lesbian variant of the
genre. Commonly this is based on homosocial subtext or pre-existing intimate, though non-
sexual, character relations. Those relationships can for instance be friendship (e.g.,
Harry/Ron; Sherlock/Watson; Xena/Gabriel); hostility (e.g., Harry/Draco; Clark Kent/Lex
Luthor); protective guardian relationships (e.g., Janeway/Seven of Nine; Batman/Robin).
Commonly a slash narrative focusing on the boy meets boy aspect of slash (or the realization
of queer feelings) leads to a certain built-up. Jenkins (1992, pp. 206-219) describes this quite
nicely referring to the phases in slash as: 1) Initial relationship, in which the protagonists are
semi-straight or had some gay experiences, but do not realize their attraction for each other
just yet. 2) Masculine dystopia, in which one of the protagonists realizes his feelings, leading
to a redefinition of self and sexuality. In some cases both characters become increasingly
aware of this sexual tension. 3) Confession, in which one of the protagonists spills out the
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beans and comes out of the closet. 4) Masculine utopia, in which they indulge in a love affair.
This can also be the dawn of another dystopia when one character rejects the other.
Though this is a textbook example of slash, there are all kinds of variants possible.
Hurt/Comfort themes can for instance be a good way to get your slash narrative started. A
writer can also chose to specialize on sex with hardly any plot or built-up. This is referred to
as PWP, ‘porn without plot’ or ‘plot, what plot?’ When browsing through fanfiction that is not
categorized as romance but for instance as adventure, a reader soon comes across slash. It is
deeply embedded in fanfiction, sometimes to the frustration of those that prefer straight
romance. Indeed slash is, aside from a genre as Jenkins describes it, also a theme that is
interwoven in fan texts all over the world. Both the doujinshi scene in Japan and the fanzine
scene in America focused on queer relationships at roughly the same time in the seventies,
which leaves one wondering how these two cultures influenced each other (Kinsella, 1998).
Interestingly queer relationships are very dominant in Japanese pop-culture where many
professional mangas and animes are published that focus solely on this. Even in mainstream
Japanese products that do not focus on romance there are often gay characters and pairings.
When dealing with fan practices based on Japanese texts it should thus be noted that any
queer values stem not only from the fandom itself which features slash fiction, but also from
the source-texts themselves.
As a pop-cultural curiosity slash has drawn much attention to academics (notably
Jenkins, 1992; Bacon-Smith, 1992; Green, Jenkins, et al, 1998). Surprisingly most slash is
made by heterosexual women, which has led to a lot of debate about its subversive qualities,
the lack of homosexuality in dominant popular culture and the representation of male
characters in fiction. Specific discussions for instance question if slash is a female substitute
for porn or if pop-culture flaws in fulfilling certain needs such as a more emotional drawing
of male characters. As Jenkins writes: ‘Slash may represent the fullest articulation of this new
liberatory imagination, pointing to new directions in the construction of gender and the
representation of sexual desire’ (1992, p. 190).
Aside from these genres fanfiction also has a great deal of personalized stories, such as
the self-insertion, which refers to stories in which an author inserts him or herself in the story
world. Now in fiction this is not something extraordinary: The Wizard of Oz, Alice in
Wonderland, Pan’s Labyrinth, all these tales have a similar theme featuring a protagonist
from daily life that gets pulled into a fantasy world. In fanfiction the author-protagonist can
go to Hogwarts, Starfleet Academy or Oz whenever he wishes. In some self-insertions the
boundary between real life and the story world is negotiated while others only have the actual
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story world as a setting. Self-insertions can also portray a more perfect, cute version of the
self, which can be seen as a subset of Mary Sue. This is commonly described as a wish-
fulfilment of the author in which a brilliant, daring version of the self visits the story world.
Both the character and the story then qualify as Mary Sue.
Mary Sue is not necessarily the author: she can also be an original character that is
constructed poorly with too perfect features. She can have very few parallels with the author
but still be a Sue because she has too much exaggerated qualities. Another variant of Mary
Sue is called canon-Sue by fans, referring to badly portrayed characters from the source-text.
The character becomes as perfect as Mary Sue in a story and his negative qualities are left out
of the picture. The genre Mary Sue is named after Paula Smith’s A Trekkie’s Tale (1974) in
which a bold female main character becomes officer of Star Fleet at ‘only fifteen and a half
years old’ and, after countless heroic deeds, dies tragically while the characters mourn the loss
of her ‘beautiful youth and youthful beauty, intelligence, capability and all around niceness’.
Her name was Mary Sue.
Like slash this genre has gained some attention from scholars as a deviant literary
phenomenon (Bacon-Smith, 1992, pp. 141-145; Pflieger, 1999; Scodari, 2003). Commonly
Mary Sue is seen as a subversive genre, either in terms of authorship (as being a blatant wish-
fulfilment) or of pop-culture (a strong female character). She gives a female tone to a
homosocial show and provides the female audience with someone they can identify with more
(for instance, Star Trek). She is also highly criticized by the community though. The point is
that Mary Sue, being the glorified superwoman she is, fails to provide the audience with a
good addition to a series. She is not a plausible character because she can do far too much,
which upsets readers, plus that in a common Mary Sue, the entire narrative revolves around
her. She is the kind of main protagonist that many readers object to because she diverts the
attention from the actual main characters you want to read about, those belonging to the
source-text.
Pat Pflieger (1999) describes Mary Sue as a distinctive female lead, a placeholder the
reader should be able to identify with. However, she fails in fulfilling this role: ‘Her very
obtrusiveness keeps readers from slipping into her place’. Mary Sues have been around for a
very long time in amateur fiction, as early as the nineteenth century these perfect female
characters could be traced in stories. Pflieger thinks this is a common phenomenon for young
writers, a kind of ‘security blanket’, the result of a fear or inability to engage with characters
sufficiently and recognize their flaws. This can also explain the high amount of canon-Sues,
where a writer describes a fan character as far too splendid. This fits the problems some fan
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writers have when it comes down to imagining, for instance, a character of the other gender,
which leads to the effeminization of male characters. A writer needs to learn the fine art of
constructing a plausible character and interpreting established characters as such. In the
beginning Mary Sues might arise and often the writer is not aware of these. In a later phase,
when a writer is more developed, he or she might recognize her own Sue and at some point
choose to write an ironical fiction about her.1
That leaves two other distinctive genres, alternative universe (AU) and crossovers.
AU fanfiction retells the story differently, often posing a what-if question and continuing a
new narrative from there. Crucial here is not a speculation of what happens after or before a
series, but an alternative to the story line. For instance, what if Dumbledore did not die in
Harry Potter; what if Moriarty succeeded in killing Sherlock Holmes? An alternative universe
develops then as an alternative to the existing narrative. Pop-cultural examples include the
Star Trek movie (2009) which provides an alternative universe for The Original Series, or
movies as Sliding Doors in which a narrative and its alternative universe are both portrayed.
Lastly fanfiction features a lot of crossovers, a genre which entwines two series
creatively. Though the author juxtaposes this content with another series he may choose to
stay true to the series in respects of settings or characters. Examples include things like Luke
Skywalker attending Hogwarts, or Harry Potter getting trained in The Force rather than
magic. This can enable quite comical fiction, but can also lead to serious, inventive narratives
when two story worlds are entwined in a consistent way.
Fanfiction thus constantly hovers between a value that obligates one to stay true to the
original, and genres in which this is less important (e.g., crossovers and Mary Sue). In some
cases the canon information might be very important, for instance, in a story that wants to
give a side character’s perspective of the original. But what makes a good fanfiction? If the
genres and tastes are so broad, what are the criteria? That is where the fan community comes
in.
Be My Beta: Social and creative Skills

Fan communities are at first sight bounded by the texts they are based on. Around a certain
text groups are formed online and offline, which are usually described as the fandom.
Attentive consumers come together in those communities to discuss fiction and elaborate
upon it. When writing fanfiction a fan relies on the fan community as a main readers group.
1
In opposition to this writers of original fiction/comics have remarked to me in personal contact/interviews that the
characters they construct resemble the pop-cultural characters they like.
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As stated in chapter 1, these fan communities are scattered online across various platforms
and sites. Not all fans will read a certain fan text, since there are so many sites that host this.
An author often uploads his fiction at a more general site and will post links at more selective
communities that specifically pay tribute to one or two characters.
The fan community matters a great deal for fans, not just as a potential readers group
but as a group of likeminded individuals who relate to similar fiction. A fan-author should be
viewed as part of a community, someone with the need to connect to those who have similar
interests. The fans, both young and old, have needs that a fan community fulfils and that fan
practices are a part of. Online new friendships flourish when communicating about this fiction
on forums or blogs within a group. Teens and young adults find relationships in fan
communities that are different from their offline surroundings where they may have fewer or
no contacts that share their passion. Some may meet up occasionally with other fans at
conventions or with those that live remotely nearby, but for younger fans this is often not a
possibility in terms of money or parental approval.
At some points the fans may become close friends and the fandom itself far less
important. One of the benefits of the internet is the opportunity to meet up with people with
similar interest fast. Especially when virtual communities were quite new, these qualities for
socializing were highlighted by theorists (e.g., Barlow, 1995; Wellman, Gulia, 1997). For
fans a fandom, both online and offline, can become a safe haven, a place where you can be
accepted by others like you. As Rebecca Moore (2005) states: ‘Fanfiction is about filling
needs, and two of the greatest are those for connection and community’.
In fact, media consumption as such is a social process which viewers, not only fans
per se, relate to in conversations to find a common ground. Media scholar John Gray (2006)
describes that the media as such are crucial for communities in general. ‘Media talk today
plays a huge role in social situations, strengthening links and bonds between people who
already know each other, and providing common ground for strangers to share’ (p. 125). In
Reading Television (2003) Fiske also explains that television is participatory, a social
experience to talk about, similar to gossip (pp. 78-80). Indeed this ‘ritual function’ of media
has often been explored (e.g., Van Zoonen, 2005). It is also at the root of fan cultures. In
Textual Poachers Jenkins (1992) analyzes the discussions about texts within fandoms as a
kind of gossiping (pp. 50-85). The process exhibits a very strategic exchange of information
that binds the participants. Every new bit of information regarding the text (new episode,
sequel, new fan text) is discussed thoroughly. Similar to gossiping, fans are often highly
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critical of a source-text, not just expressing the positive aspects of it, but also debunking it
where, in their respect, it flawed.
The downsides of these fan communities are that you need to invest time and energy
in keeping up with boards and the participants. Furthermore, there may be some quarrels
within a fan community about how to interpret certain canonical scenes or characters. If you
do things that are popular, like participating in a very large fandom or following the general
consensus about a text, you easily gain readers and a following. For those that participate in
niche fandoms or alternative tastes, getting an audience might be harder, and there is a good
chance you will be ignored or flamed. Furthermore, as in all creative practices those who are
more skilled will get more attention, though this is not necessarily always the case. Those that
participate a lot are also appreciated and this may result in positive criticism of their products.
Again, all of this is highly depended on the platform, the atmosphere within a community and
the communication of the individual fan, as will be exemplified in the case-study of this
chapter as well.
The fan community and its functioning are crucial to the flourishing of an amateur
writer’s skills. As Rebecca Moore rightly underlines: ‘The writer needs inspiration, story
elements, writing skills, and perhaps most important for amateur writers, an audience’ (2005,
p. 16). Fanfiction provides all of these things, not just narrative moulds to work with, but also
a potentially active audience that is interested in what you do and willing to take a look. An
amateur writer of original fiction may come across problems when trying to find an audience
online. When dealing with fan practices, however, the community is already there. The fans
are already acquainted with the source-text and willing to see how another fan text can
broaden their view of a story world and provide good entertainment. For writer having an
audience is a good motivation to keep writing and improve one’s skills and narrative based on
the opinion of readers. In fan communities the creative learning process takes place peer-to-
peer in a somewhat informal way (see also, Ito, 2008). The new fans get the ability to focus
on something small, an aspect of the source-text, and show that to a selected, comfortable
audience.
Fanfiction writers learn many things from the communities they participate in. In the
interviews I held with several authors, the focus was often on the benefits of language. It
should be taken into account here that my interviews were Dutch and started writing fiction in
English quite early because of the communities they participated in. In the beginning this led
to problems for some who did not master the language sufficiently, but in result their English
improved greatly from the feedback they got in the communities. Writing in Dutch was hardly
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an option for them: some had explored Dutch fanfiction sites but were turned off by their
content or perceived it as awkward since they were so used to reading English content. When
going to fan conventions I often heard similar criticism to mangas translated in Dutch, which
is a fairly new phenomenon (until a few years ago you could count the mangas published in
Dutch on one hand). These fans are not only used to consuming fan texts in English, but also
the source-texts themselves. When giving my workshop on fanfiction at the Animecon 2009
this disregard of Dutch also became somewhat apparent. A good mastering of English within
fan communities was deemed very important.
Naturally native speakers also better their linguistic abilities and modes of expression
through writing. One of the interviewees, Suzanne Blanken, only writes in Dutch and hardly
publishes her fanfiction online. She chose to distribute it to friends only, though some of them
also circulated this content. She remarked that she learned a great deal on the level of
individual sentences and their construction, and that in general her later writings are more
readable. The same goes for those native English speakers in the communities that develop a
good feeling for prose and descriptions more and more throughout their fanfiction. Each
writer learns about grammar and style when he or she indulges in writing more and more.
Aside from linguistic benefits, a writer learns to focus on specific aspects of
storytelling through fanfiction, for instance structuring a plot or gaining a comfortable writing
style. The general narrative, settings and characters are already there. A fan can specifically
learn to interpret or speculate about a narrative and develop those abilities. Filling the gaps of
texts, restructuring them, speculating them and engaging closely with the story world provides
a very distinct way of consuming fiction. This can provide new insights in an existing text and
a mode of reading one can apply to other texts as well (see also Jenkins, 2008). Jenkins
describes this as a kind of informal learning via ‘affinity spaces’, a term coined by James Paul
Gee which supposes students engage more deeply with texts from popular culture that they
love. This is different from learning through formal ways such as non-fictional text books to
which a student may relate less. Other than the interpretation of texts (and close-reading), a
more general ability a fan-author learns is a way to connect with texts on an emotional level.
For some the benefits may have to do with the construction of fictional characters.
General fallacies for beginners include awkward portrayals of existing characters or
inconsistencies in their personalities. As one fanfiction reader at the workshop admitted: ‘I
hate it when characters pull a full reversal in plots’. He thereby referred to stories in which at
some point - without valid reason - the characters start to behave quite differently. Other
writers referred to the effeminization of existing characters, or a dislike of either too
60
emotional portrayals of characters (turning them into drama queens) or too perfect and tragic
(making a Mary Sue out of existing characters). Others rejected fanfiction in which
androgynous characters (either psychological or racial when dealing with science fiction or
fantasy) were confined into one gender in terms of behaviour or appearance. At the workshop
and in interviews writers agreed that fanfiction, in terms of reading and writing, gives you
insights in what it means to stay true to existing characters. Of course at some points it suits a
fan story better if the character’s personality is deconstructed. Indeed, when spoofing
characters it becomes fairly impossible to portray them accurately.
That is not to say that there are no margins in fanfiction and other texts when it comes
down to interpreting characters. Though in fan communities there is a general consensus, in
detail one has quite some liberty. Therefore it is only obvious ‘out of characterness’ that is
viewed as undesirable when one wants to grow in fanfiction. Jenkins has also described this
as ‘emotional realism’ in Textual Poachers (1992, notably pp. 110-113). Emotional realism
refers to the fans’ desires to see adequate, credible and consistent character portrayals they
can relate to. This is not only the case in fanfiction, but also in source-texts were characters
may start to behave differently or the plot becomes less plausible. Ergo, fiction needs to be
plausible (depending on the genre plausibility differs), consistent and have a certain merit.
Despite the fans’ emphasis on canon, I also want to emphasize that in practice a full
understanding of the source-text might not be all that important. Though fans hammer on the
canon or established information when making aesthetic judgments, there are also enough fan
writers who only consumed the source-text to a limited degree. For instance, through fiction
that is already a derivative text of the source-text (e.g., an adaptation), fan texts (e.g., fanfics
and meta-discussions) or parts of the source-text (e.g., when the fan is still playing the game).
When interviewing and doing ethnography I also came across fans that were not familiar with
the source-text or only to a limited degree, but did participate in the fandoms surrounding it.
They enrolled in the communities via other fan practices rather than the actual text. For
instance, interviewee Mellissa van den Hoogen writes fiction about source-texts she has not
finished entirely (e.g., Kim Possible) and reads fanfiction of series she has not seen (e.g., My
Otome). Iris Maassen had similar experiences. We should therefore take into account that the
source-text is not necessarily the start of fan practices. Fans may be introduced to new
fandoms via the fanfiction of their favourite authors, or choose to explore the fanon first to see
if the actual text is worthwhile.
Of course the trials and errors of others are equally important when developing one’s
writing skills. Specifically writing more in-depth reviews or beta-reading is a way to learn that
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(e.g., Jenkins, 2006b, p. 177-185). When providing feedback to others a writer learns about
his own skills. Naturally it also takes some time to learn how to give constructive criticism
properly and some may pay more attention to characters and plots, while others will focus on
things like grammar. In general it therefore pays off, just like in more academic worlds, to
have several peer reviewers. As interviewee Iris Maassen also underlined, the editing that one
learns in fanfiction can be a quality when competing at the actual job market as well. Her
experiences as a beta-reader were part of the reason why she got a job as an editor, rather than
her background, which is in chemistry.
Aside from getting jobs as actual writers and editors, fanfiction as a hobby can also
give one recognition within communities and a certain prestige. As Camille Bacon-Smith
wrote (1992, p. 159) regarding fanzines: ‘Women who have low prestige jobs or who are
homemakers can gain national and even international recognition as fan writers and artists;
fan publishing constitutes alternative sources of status, unacknowledged by the dominant
social and economic systems but personally rewarding nevertheless.’ The internet now gives
amateur writers the chance to feel secure in a creative field and develop skills to master it
even more. Though at first it may feel frightening and some may get negative criticism, in
general there is an opportunity for fans to learn in a positive environment. Even if a young
writer commits something that is considered not done, there are usually considerate other fans
who went through similar experiences and help out. Though some fans may shun newbies,
others are willing to comment with positive as well as negative notes.
Finally, what all writers experimenting in fanfiction might learn is whether they like
writing at all. Indeed, some may still not get the hang of it after several fanfics or may need to
invest too much time in it. Eventually what counts is creativity and some may achieve this
better through another medium. Fans may learn from fanfiction that writing might not be their
cup of tea after all and that they are for instance more visually oriented. That is not a problem
either. Fanfiction cannot be grasped in terms of making money out of it or other tangible
benefits; it is referred to as a ‘labour of love’ and is exactly that. A writer can gain many
things out of this, from sharing his passion for a product, to increasing his skills. Most of my
interviewees however remarked fanfiction is also something they have to do, because the
source-text inspires them immensely and they want to express that feeling. Fanfiction cannot
be grasped in terms of ‘getting’ something; it is all about investing and giving.
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Play it your way: Tales of Symphonia

As a case-study to explore fanfiction, I chose Tales of Symphonia, a renowned Japanese
videogame. It features 4.830 fictions (May 8, 2009) at FanFiction.net, which makes it one of
the most popular games to write about, topped only by a few Final Fantasy games and Zelda
(unlike the Tales and Final Fantasy series categorized as one subsection). Tales of Symphonia
is a Japanese role-playing game (RPG) released for the Nintendo Gamecube (Japan: August,
2003, European version: November, 2004) and Playstation 2 (Japan only: September, 2004).
It is the fifth game out of a longer series of Tales games, most of which are self-contained
universes rather than one connected story world. In that sense the series can be compared to
other popular Japanese RPG series such as Final Fantasy, which develop a new story world
for each game. Tales of Symphonia forms a very distant prequel to the earlier released Tales of
Phantasia, but the overlap in settings/characters is very limited. Recently a sequel to the game
was released, Tales of Symphonia: Dawn of the New World (Japan: June, 2008; American
version: November 2008).
Since 1995 Namco has been producing these games. The Tales series now spans
twelve flagship titles (main titles in a series) and fifteen escort titles (spin-offs, essentially side
stories to the main series). These escorts include crossover games that combine
characters/settings from various games, such as Tales of the World; puzzle games that provide
additional background content and sequels such as Tales of Symphonia: Dawn of the New
World. Interestingly Namco does perceive the sequel to Tales of Destiny as a mothership title,
which makes the line between spin-off and mothership slightly unclear, arguably it has to do
with the same team being on the sequel (which was not the case in Dawn of the New World).
Role-playing games as Tales of Symphonia are based on older traditional role-playing
games such as Dungeons and Dragons that are played in real-life. Features of computer-based
role-playing games commonly include combat to increase the skills of your protagonists
(often described as levelling), dungeons/puzzle elements, large settings and an emphasis on
the storyline rather than on skills in terms of game play. An RPG usually contains a large
inventory of items that enlarge your capabilities or unlock certain elements of the game, other
than that you often have various skills varying from attack power to magic or speed. The
narrative of an RPG can best be described in terms of a quest. The plot asks you to resolve a
certain problem in the world, which you can achieve by traversing the settings and gaining
experience/items.
The highly narrative elements and the fantasy story world draw a specific kind of
gamer to these RPG’s. The genre commonly includes dramatic elements and plot twists to
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surprise the gamer. The plot itself and gaming can be described as very linear and fixed, a
story that you can enable by travelling around the world and interacting to make certain
actions/scenes possible. Some RPG’s give alternate story lines though. You can for instance
choose a certain love interest by interacting with the other characters in a certain manner.
Similar options are included in Final Fantasy VII or other Tales games. Other RPG’s are
renowned for their multiple endings like the sequel to Tales of Symphonia or Chrono Trigger.
Tales of Symphonia can be played with one or several gamers that control the
characters. It is not like an online role-playing game but far more traditional: you can give one
of the console’s controllers to a second player to help you during a battle, but outside the
combat you will only see the lead of your party (team of characters) that the main player can
navigate through the world. Specifically Tales of Symphonia also features skits, small
conversations between the characters that pop-up as thumbnails, dialogues that you can
activate if you wish to read them (or hear them if you play the Japanese version, the English
dub is not voiced). The skits provide the gamer with background content as the characters go
into witty discussions about the plot or random things as food.
The game begins in Sylvarant, a world that is degenerating because the energy source
that sustains it, mana, is becoming scarce. A young girl, Colette Brunel, is raised as a
‘Chosen’ that should regenerate the world by travelling to the Tower of Salvation and
releasing various seals. On this journey the Chosen becomes less human and more like an
angelic vessel to carry the spirit of the Goddess, which also means she has to give up on
emotions. On her quest Colette is aided by her best friend, Lloyd Irving; the young half-elf
Genis; his older sister and their teacher Raine and a mysterious mercenary named Kratos. The
characters also traverse to another parallel world, Tethe’alla, a world that has its own chosen
one. Each time one of the worlds changes the mana flow and gets more mana, the other world
is left barren. In the end it becomes a difficult task to save both worlds, especially when it
turns out the church and the desians (a shady military organisation) are wrapped up in this. At
the heart of the matter is an organisation of angels, the Cruxis, ran by Mithos Yggdrasill, the
main villain. Throughout the story the game touches upon heavy themes as corrupt religious
movements, racism, psychological issues and mass murder. Though appearing light in the
beginning and in style, it incorporates some subversive content tastefully. This kind of
storytelling is not uncommon in Japanese popular culture.
Though the game is Japanese, the plot and environments are staged in a highly
Western fantasy environment that represents elements of Japanese culture itself as foreign and
different (notably the only Asian inspired village in the game, Mizuho, stands out). This
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Westernized point of view can be associated with the content of the game that fits our
mythology, tradition of role-playing and tropes in fantasy fiction. In fact these values may
also account for the game’s popularity in America and Europe. It should be noted here that in
general Japanese pop-culture is highly inspired by Western fiction and folklore and integrates
this in its narratives (Ito, 2003; Hills, 2002b). Tales of Symphonia as such leans heavily on
Norse fiction from the Edda. Mythological places of those books are used and themes such as
the tree of life (Ygdrasill), here a key motive tied to the main villain of the game. Indeed the
references to the Edda can be traced in terms of plot as well. Other intertexts include biblical
motives (the angels, the fallen) and Arabian mythology for the summon spirits. These myths
are addressed very self-consciously, which is exemplified by for instance Mithos Ygdrasill’s
first name and the explicit stating of a ‘journey of the chosen one’ as a quest model.
With its two worlds, diverse cities and side characters, Tales of Symphonia forms a
very large universe. The source-text is dispersed across various platforms, which befits our
idea of transmedia storytelling as a practice for narration and new strategy of corporations. As
Jenkins also describes (2006b, p. 110) in Japan it is far more common to narrate a story
throughout various media, spin-off’s and additional merchandise. When we look at Tales of
Symphonia, this practice can be retraced and made an even larger fan base possible
throughout the years. For starters, in 2006 an OVA (animated adaptation) of the game was
made which also drew mainstream anime viewers that would not normally purchase the game.
The OVA had four episodes and is commonly perceived by the die-hard fans as questionable
in terms of quality. It rushes through the story and yet manages to add a lot of unnecessary
scenes. Most fans of the game argue on top of that many of the characters (notably Lloyd) are
portrayed wrongly when compared to the game (see Namco Board for discussions). A new
OVA has been announced in 2008 and is still in production. The adaptation of the manga
(comic) of Tales of Symphonia is considered to be better but hard to get by for Western
viewers. Whereas most would download the anime or import the DVD, the manga can only be
imported and a foreigner will not easily make sense of the language. However, online some
fan translations and scans can be found to become familiar with it. On top of that there is a
range of gashapons (small action figures you put together yourself); trading cards; figurines
and other fan merchandise of the series.
Aside from the franchise Namco itself actively tries to provide loyal fans of the series
with more content. The game itself has been released on the Playstation 2 in Japan with new
background information, costumes and content. Tales of Symphonia is very loosely attached
to Tales of Phantasia which stimulates fans to talk about the story world and the gap between
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the two games. Namco also triggers fan activity with titles loosely attached to these main
games. Tales of Fandom, a spin-off series of various puzzle games, provides new information
and mini-games/quests. Notably the name, Tales of Fandom, describes enough of Namco’s
PR strategy that self-consciously stimulates the fandom. In Tales of the World the gamer can
also play with Symphonia characters again. Most of these spin-off games are not released in
America or Europe; however, many loyal fans are familiar with the content by reviews of
other fans. Some may even play the Japanese versions (e.g., two of my interviewees and
several of the fanfiction authors I spotted online). Their lack of Japanese thus does not
interfere with their commitment to the series and the wish to experience it themselves.
The sequel to the game is a fully different matter when discussing transmediality here.
Unlike the original the sequel is not that accepted by most fans and indeed, by the company
perceived as a separate escort title. Even at sites as fanfiction.net or LiveJournal, Dawn of the
New World has a separate section to exclude the fiction of this game with its predecessor. At
first I thought this was related to spoilers since the release of Dawn of the New World in
America was very late. However, stories related to the game are still hosted separately and I
suspect this will remain so. The sequel features the story of Emil, a young boy, whose parents
get killed by previous main character Lloyd. What follows is a game in which Emil tries to
track down Lloyd. At the background the political tension between Sylvarant and Tethe’alla
increases, while a new entity disturbs the magical balance between the two worlds again.
The game, which is written and produced by a different staff, strongly redefines the
canon of Tales of Symphonia by including a new God, new characters and badly portraying
the old ones. Criticism by game magazines was rather mixed, often praising the battle system
and dishing the graphics and plot. The fan base is overall negative about the game, though
some tend to like aspects of it, like the reappearance of the old cast and new character Richter
Abend gains quite some attention. Some jokingly compare it to bad fanfiction. Though other
content such as the OVA can be considered disappointing, it at least did not redefine the story
world. Interestingly when looking at boards and fanfiction, it appears that most fans also
perceive the games as two separate universes. The in-depth use of the previous game in Dawn
of the New World fan fiction is limited, while writers of general Tales of Symphonia fiction
often stay in the universe of the first game. Though there could have been possibilities for
bridging the two games, also because there are a few years in-between, the need to fill this
gap is apparently limited. Rather fan-authors tend to focus on providing background for Emil
or other characters by elaborating upon elements of the sequel itself that are left unexplained.
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Lost in translation
Importantly the fact that this source-product is Japanese affects the fans and is thus
characteristic for this research. As briefly touched upon in chapter 1, the study of the
appropriation of Japanese material by Western fans is rather limited and often includes
projects by fan scholars that focus on all kinds of material, such as Henry Jenkins and Matt
Hills. In fact, more attention has been paid to other foreign material, such as British series that
are transferred to America. Still, the in-depth studies on these matters are limited and often
produce a rather one-sided image of the consumer as one that is indulged with foreign or
deviant content. This leads researchers to believe that the fan tries to construct a specific
identity linked to his exclusive taste (Hills, 2002b).
However, Western popular culture has been infused with Japanese popular culture a
lot the last years, creating a more mainstream image of this type of fiction. In the eighties it
was still a niche for certain older consumers that imported these products (Kinsella, 1998;
Jenkins, 1992). Nowadays animes are being broadcasted in Europe and America and mangas
are sold in many countries at newspaper stands or ordinary bookstores. It has become a more
accepted form of entertainment, though the demography of the fans has definitely shifted to a
younger audience. Being a fan of Japanese pop-culture may still give the fan a rather
alternative, subcultural identity in certain groups or countries, but in general these Japanese
media are spreading widely and rapidly.
Internet made Japanese popular culture more accessible for consumers all over the
world. As Henry Jenkins explains (2006b) in his essay on The Matrix (pp. 93-130) this
circulation is determined by corporate convergences and grassroots activities of fan
communities and immigrants. There are three economic stakes or levels, when it comes down
to introducing this foreign content: a national and international level (for a country a certain
product might be a source of national pride, while it might not be suitable for an international
market); multinational corporations that track down suitable content and transfer it to other
markets; niche distributors and consumers (e.g., cult fans) that look for very specific things.
The adaptation of this content is another matter. Usually something gets lost in translation
when the content is made suitable for, for instance, an American market. In some cases the
translation may lead to a new product all together. This is frequently the case with Japanese
cartoon being adapted for a Western children’s audience where the censorship is stricter. The
voice dubs can afflict the original content so thoroughly to suit a new target group that there is
hardly anything left of the original dialogues and plot.
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Aside from making these translations acceptable for a different market in terms of
dialogue/censorship, the appropriation of this content often includes Westernizing it. For
instance, in Pokémon rice balls are portrayed as doughnuts (see also Jenkins, 2006a, pp. 152-
172). This should make Western viewers feel more familiar with the content, though any child
would see the difference between an animated rice ball and a donut. In some cases a
corporation may choose to release entirely localized versions. These versions are transcultural
in the truest sense of the word in that they place something of one culture into another
entirely. In Convergence Culture Jenkins (2006b, p. 110) describes this process with the
examples of Asian Spiderman as a ninja or the Chinese version of Batman, released
respectively by Marvel and DC themselves. Something can also be localized in fan
practices/creativity for instance via fan practices (id., p. 115). We will see that many fan-
authors localize a series and make it more personal, familiar or witty by introducing the cast
to their own setting: their country, culture or subculture.
The voices of characters have to be taken into account too, when dealing with these
kinds of products. In some cases a dub can be very interesting at local level because it features
celebrities or famous voice actors. This adds another layer to a seemingly fictional character
because you start to compare it with the celebrity, his career or other voices he or she has
portrayed. This is particularly interesting when one analyzes localized versions of Disney
dubs that choose a voice actor very carefully, not just in terms of voice but also in terms of
status and attitude similar to the American one. A whole process and creative endeavour has
to be taken into account here that is sometimes overlooked when dealing with translations.
Indeed, when analyzing Tales of Symphonia I also saw entire discourses related to the voice
cast. Notably when the English dub of the sequel was introduced, these discussions became
apparent. The sequel features an entirely new voice-cast which is depicted as qualitatively bad
when compared to the original. Fans felt this violated the characters and the game’s universe
as such. Despite that these voices are not the original ones, the Western audience cared about
them a great deal. A likeable English voice was also taken in account for fans when investing
in a character and they felt the new voice-actors damaged the image of the cast.
Another question then would be how important it is that this source-product is
Japanese. As has been mentioned, Tales of Symphonia is a multinational product, meaning
that it incorporates bits and pieces of all kinds of cultures; a similar example would be The
Matrix (Jenkins, id.; Newitz, 1994). The dub as such can be seen as transcultural because it
has been adapted and gained a particular Western scent. Though not many changes were made
in the content, some dialogues and names were altered. One may wonder if the Japanese
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elements are crucial to a fan’s liking of the game. Indeed Hills (2002b, p. 7) supposes this
varies and that ‘“Japaneseness” has to be assumed to correspond to a limited set of signifiers
such that analysts can recognise these signifiers at work, or so that fan-respondents can judge
whether “Japaneseness” is relevant to them.’ Nationality and internationality here play at a
different level than just liking something because it is American popular culture or Japanese.
Indeed the very introduction of this content in Western countries already ‘westernizes’ it.
Rather fans will talk about taking a liking in certain fictional conventions that are
Japanese or they may compare the Tales franchise to other Japanese RPG’s or animes. There
may be some Japanese features that fans may like about Tales of Symphonia, for instance the
designs or game play, though other fans may like other features that are like the narrative. For
some this may even have been the first introduction to Japanese content, for others the game
may hold a special place as a first RPG. Researching fan cultures means taking this personal,
individual relation to a text into account. It also means that you keep an open eye out when
analyzing these practices. After all, though the product may have a transcultural dimension,
the fan can localize it to some degree and will interpret a source-text from his own cultural
background.
Tales of Symphonia at FanFiction.net

From 16 February to 1 April, 2009 I analyzed the updated fanfiction of Tales of Symphonia
and the given feedback. FanFiction.net is the largest host for fanfiction at the moment which
allows a user to upload stories in document form or write them on spot in a text box. The
system features reviews per chapter, favourites and a generic author profile. Private contact
with other members can be through e-mails or private messages. For those that wish to share
their story there is the option to create or join a community, plus a forum-option for users that
want to have informal discussions. Both of these features seem not well-used when checking
FanFiction.net. Tales of Symphonia has a lot of forums (60) when compared to other games
and series, but most of these are inactive and involved only one or a few topics with short
discussions. A few communities such as the ‘pairings’ community have been actively used for
a while though, but mostly to discuss selective aspects of the source-text.
When the fiction had many reviews I checked the first 100 comments. I also paid
attention to author’s profiles and favourites to see what fandoms they were involved in and
how they fashioned their writing activities. I did not read the fiction itself thoroughly since
that was not the aim of this research, though I did explore the content in a more general way.
Thereby I tried not to be distracted by the quality of the fiction, since many of these authors
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are still in the process of learning to write. I checked the author’s notes that some writers post
in the beginning of their fiction which often include statements by the writer regarding the
fiction or fandom itself. For this research I also analyzed the disclaimers in which a fanfiction
writer states there he does not own the property, though not all authors chose to use these.
Ergo, the practices surrounding the fiction and the responses to it were the key issue here.
Based on their profiles the authors were in general in their mid-teens to late twenties.
Deducing the gender of the authors was sometimes hard since FanFiction.net depicts
nationality but has no specific gender category. Some authors state it in their profile in the
sections that can fill in themselves. The writers I could retrace were largely females, though.
The nationality of the authors was very diverse, though this did not seem to influence the
content other than in linguistic terms. However, mind that a lot of native speakers did not ace
their grammar either. When dealing with amateur fiction or starting writers this is an evident
problem. The analysis of this case-study emphasizes various aspects of fanfiction in relation
to authorship by depicting: firstly, this fiction written in this fandom in terms of content; then
the kind of feedback the writers give each other; thirdly the self-conscious elements in these
writing practices and lastly, the construction of a specific identity as a fan-author.
Let me first give an impression of the kind of fanfiction I spotted when spending time
at FanFiction.net and try to give an overview of the fiction. In the Tales of Symphonia fandom
all genres can be found, though the explicit content seems rare. It may be that FanFiction.net
is not the best place to host this or that this is dealt with less in this particular fandom.
Nonetheless there is a range of slash fiction hosted here. Other than that comedy and
crossovers seem quite popular. The most popular, strikingly, are self-insertion stories in which
Mary Sues or original characters are embedded in the existing story world. In fact, these are
very dominant, perhaps because as a game and large fantasy setting Tales of Symphonia
allows the integration of such new characters easily. The quantity of these fics is very high,
that is to say, I came across a few of those a day whereas this was not the case with other
genres. I should however note here that this type of fanfiction usually contains many chapters,
as long-term writing projects for beginners, which also explains why they are updated so
frequently. Not counting the updates of already published fanfiction a large part of the stories
belonged to these categories.
Much to my surprise there are few examples of authors that rewrite the game from an
alternative perspective. In general the source-text focuses on hero Lloyd which leaves
openings for those that want to explore a different point of view. Some writers adopted a new
perspective, but frequently this was not an in-game perspective. Most fiction with an
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alternative perspective dealt with the game’s implicit background and history rather than its
main plot. For instance, prequel to the game there had been a war (The Great Kharlan War)
and though this is not elaborated upon in the source-text that much, some writers explore this
concept with an original character or those in the game that had lived through these unfaithful
events (e.g., Key_to_Soul, 2009; Joshuaorrizonte, 2007; Dark-Fire27, 2009). Others choose to
explore the history of characters the game hints at. Notably main-character Kratos appears to
be a favourite there. He had lost his wife previous to the game and many elaborate on her
tragic death (e.g., Shaddowind, 2005; Kratos the 9th Companion, 2009). This is usually
narrated by Kratos though some fiction adopts other perspectives or several of witnesses,
friends or those that murdered her (e.g., E. an E’ Kaleidoscope, 2009).
Other fanfiction belongs to the alternative universe stories and many of these involve a
reworking of the chosen one’s journey. The quest structure of the game is here rewritten with
different protagonists or a less successful conclusion. For instance in Raenef the 6th’s Tales of
Symphonia: Second Chance (2007) the journey is severely messed up by hero Lloyd. In other
fanfics Collette is not the chosen one, which leads to a different resolution or a few of the
main characters refuse to join in on the quest. In alternative universe fiction it also appears to
be a popular theme to create a different portrayal of Lloyd, which is called Crulloyd by some.
These stories depict the main character and hero, Lloyd, as a villain belonging to the angelic
organisation Cruxis and made him into an antagonist rather than the main protagonist (e.g.,
NiGHTChild68, 2008). This moral realignment as Jenkins would call it (1992) seems quite
popular and perhaps with due right: Lloyd could have easily been a villain - had he not been
fostered - since his birthfather is one. Other stories focus on alternatives to Lloyd’s fostering
but less on what the moral outcome of that would be (e.g., E. an' E. Kaleidoscope, 2009).
Fans apparently love working with this fact, though other forms of moral realignment (e.g.,
villains switching sides) seem much rarer.
The crossovers and references I spotted usually drew on the Western fantasy pop-
culture (e.g., multiple fics referring to The Lord of the Rings) or Japanese pop-culture (e.g.,
Pokémon, .Hack/Sign, Naruto). From this we can deduce that fans often try to base a
reference on a playful similarity. This can either be in-story commonalities like the quest,
culture of elves or world of The Lord of The Rings as similar to Tales of Symphonia, or the
comparison with another Japanese product which is seen as belonging to a similar genre for
Western writers. Other references and crossovers involved general pop-culture such as Star
Wars or even, based on short browsing through fiction, internet memes. Specifically comedy
series are also quoted or spoofed a lot. For instance I read a complaint by Aion_13 (5 May,
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2009) in a review (Nightfoot, 2008) that he had counted seven Seinfeld references in various
Tales of Symphonia fanfics already. However, references to high-art were not uncommon
either. Some writers integrated content from the Edda, building on the mythological aspects
of Tales of Symphonia. For instance, ItachiTheDekuScrub’s A Midnight’s Hell (2009) embeds
the Norwegian Gods Thor, Fenrir and Odin as new protagonists while Raenef the 6th’s story
(2007) draws comparisons with Greece and Roman mythology. One of the more successful
Symphonia fanfics by Twilight Scribe (2006) also features a lengthy imitation of
Shakespearian language which should depict an old language of the story world itself.
What seems striking is that the self-insertions and original character fictions are
peeking in the Tales of Symphonia fandom while these are actually the genres that were
criticized most in interviews, at the workshop and online. When analyzing the readers of these
fanfics online it turns out quite many write similar fiction, which could explain why their
interest since they form a kind of sub community then. By reading and reviewing similar
fiction these authors hope to find likeminded individuals and perhaps draw the right audience
to their own fiction. Since the uploaded Tales of Symphonia fanfiction covers quite a few
stories a day, it is only natural that fans do not read all stories or genres.
Though I presumed at first that Tales of Symphonia might pose certain problems in
terms of transmediality this was less the case than I expected. Apparently because the game is
the main source-text and since the other products are somewhat harder to get by, most authors
base themselves on that. The blending with the second game is very little and in the section of
the sequel it works the other way around. Some of the fanfics base themselves on other parts
of the canon, such as the manga or anime (e.g., Freakyanimegal, 2009; Arisu Tsuranu, 2009).
Most fanfiction explicitly states this, though some stories appear to be more anime-centered at
first glance without any mentioning. Others post fiction based on the spin-off games as Tales
of the World in the Symphonia category, since these texts have no section of their own. This
causes some problems like accidental spoilers or the assumption of authors that we know this
fiction takes place in the spin-off game and thus features different characters too.
In one fanfiction the characters of the game enter our world and even make an explicit
point of the conflicts between Symphonia’s various source-texts and the discrepancy between
those. The characters decide to do some proper research on their fictional lives (VanNeon,
2009). This fanfiction stages a self-conscious story as will be addressed later this chapter.
When a story exists in multiple versions, a plot line that addresses the fiction itself becomes
more problematic: ‘Lloyd, Kratos, and Tenebrae decided to ask around as to which (the
anime, the manga, or the video game) was closest to what actually happened by asking die-
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hard fans for short summaries. After it was discovered that the video game was the closest to
truth, Lloyd and Tenebrae (sic) went shopping for four GameCubes (sic) and four copies of
Tales of Symphonia. Upon seeing that they were characters from a video game, the person
working the check-out counter gave them everything for free’.
Feedback from fellow-fans

Many of the longer stories at FanFiction.net draw a specific reader group that checks for
updates at regular basis or uses the alert system, which sends a mail each time a story is
updated. Longer stories usually gain a following with frequent reviewers that give feedback
on each new chapter, which assures that the fanfics that are a bit popular easily get a hundred
reviews or more. The comments that are written by the same readers frequently discuss new
plot moves or just an opinion about where the story is heading. For instance, the 77 chapter
long fic by Whatsername427 (2007) has as one of its first comments (Kamon Peach Fox, 2
June 2009): ‘I kind of expected Joseph's father to be like that. […] If he sent Michelle to
SylvarantTethe'allaWhatev does that mean he thinks she'll find out about it FOR him?! O...
The imagination reels...’ A longer fanfic easily gets a kind of suspense quality in which the
audience is craving for more, something that shorter fanfiction lacks. No matter how good a
one-shot might be, it draws fewer reviews. In fact, the best fanfic in terms of quality that I
read, Ripple Effect (E. an' E. Kaleidoscope, 2009) had hardly any reviews. Because the story
is one long chapter and not updated so far, it draws little attention and because it is semi-
finished, it is unnecessary to discuss the plot in detail. However, this is a co-authorship profile
of two authors that already have existing, active accounts. With this secondary profile they
make less use of the features FanFiction.net offer, which also leads to less readers.
Aside from plot and expectations, it is not uncommon for reviewers to go into author’s
notes or informal content. For instance, some authors may remark they had trouble writing the
chapter, state they are having exams at the moment or ask readers to support them when they
participate in a fan contest. Reviewers gladly reply to this which again emphasizes that this is
not just a formal community, but a community of likeminded individuals. Aside from writer’s
blocks and personal matters, author’s notes may address specific elements of the game, which
then triggers a discussion with the reviewers. Sometimes reviewers refer to parts of the game
out of their own because the story reminds of that. Note for instance this comment (29 May
2009) by Akira Shinji (Nightfoot, 2008): ‘By the way, what is a "Devil's Arm"? From the
sound of it, it must be like a...Ultima Weapon kind of thing. Although I've never heard of that
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sidequest’. The discussion of a fanfic is then steered to a general discussion about the source-
text.
Some reviewers focus on language, though not that many. In general this is also what
the beta-reading system is for, perhaps, which may go from peer-to-peer via mail or private
messages rather than via open reviews. Nonetheless, some readers jot down the mistakes they
find in a text. Most of them however concentrate on the plot movement or character portrayals
or make very generic comments. I suspected to find more comments on language before I
started my research, so this struck me as odd to some degree. Writing styles themselves
sometimes form a criteria, especially when they are passable to good, rather than when they
are bad. When writing styles are not that good – for instance because they are unclear, lack
descriptions or read incoherent – the attention usually goes to other aspects of the texts that
flaw, such as grammar or individual sentences. I found some constructive reviews on styles,
though most of them referred to style only generically. One of the more substantial reviews
was on Tiger002 (2009) by She Who Dances Under The Moon (20 January 2009), partly
quoted here: ‘As you might have noticed, you have a slight problem of redundancy. Using the
same set of words to describe something for a handful of phrases is alright, but you gotta try
to find ways to diversify your writing, or else it starts striking to the reader's eye out like a
sore thumb and they can't focus on the story anymore. I know it gets very hard to always think
of new synonyms and ways of phrasing when we write, but it ensures the reader doesn't get
bored and it also sounds more researched, less ...kiddish’.
One of the more important criteria to judge a fanfic seems to be its portrayal of
existing/original characters. When a fanfiction portrays the existing cast poorly this is
addressed by many reviewers. One of the most acclaimed Tales of Symphonia fanfics I came
across by Freakyanimegal (2007) Tasks of Spirit, has 849 comments (at 19 February 2007)
and a large reader’s traffic. It is the sequel to a large other fanfic she wrote, Grandkid (2005).
The reviews mingle from sheer dislike to absolute praise over the length of the story and
writing style. Several reviews complain about the original characters and the representation of
the Tales characters (e.g., Onihime 942, 26 January 2009): ‘It seems like you've morphed
every canon character into an OC. The person you've abused the most is Kratos. Yes, we all
love the stoic mercenary who really needs a hug, but, that doesn't mean you have to change
every aspect of his character to suit your story. […] Yes, this story is supposed to be
humorous, but it really isn't that funny when all of your characters act so childish and OOC.
Your OCs are also quite Mary Sue/Gary Stue-ish. They outshine the real characters of ToS,
prob'ly because you made so many that you're having trouble juggling all of them.’
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Indeed the comparison between an original character and a Mary Sue is one of the
most read criticisms on any story featuring new protagonists. Where an author here tries to
add something original and personalize the story world a bit more, there is a danger that the
story looses the spirit of the source-text. Some authors try to avoid getting such critique by
stating in the beginning of the story that their original characters are definitely not meant to be
Mary Sues (or an implicit self-insertion) in any way. Those that do have this aim also
explicitly state they are for instance writing a self-insert which they may mention in the title
ironically as well (e.g., Tales of Yet Another Self-insert). However, Mary Sue is a bit more
difficult since there are relatively few parody-Sues or explicit Sues in the Tales community.
Unlike the popular self-inserts these are not a trend here, but viewed as a negative thing or
even a taboo. It should be noted that this might not be the case in all fandoms. Until I was
observing this community I never guessed that the much criticized genre of self-insertions
could be so well-read.
It seems that those fans that write self-inserts frequently play with the geeky
fanboy/fangirl aspects of their personality rather than using the exaggerations common to
Mary Sue. The main taboo in the Tales community seems to be writing a Mary Sue without
realizing that. This leads to quite some criticism of fiction that has Mary Sue themes. As
Kinuka (2009, 28 February) comments on Task of Spirits (2007): ‘From how you write her
out in Grandkid/Tasks of Spirit, she is not just "based" on you. She IS you, living out your
fantasies for you, like your other main OC’s’. Not all readers tend to dislike original
characters with dubious qualities. Many readers of this fanfic tended to like the original
characters, but little can be deduced from the small reviews as to why that is. A more
interesting comment is given by ImperialGuardian09 (2007, 17 May): ‘I was slightly sad that
most of the children were simply mixtures of their parents in personality. However, I do say
that I love how Quet, Malk, and Lerek, although clones, had their own quirks that made them
unique.’
Some reviewers explicitly warn for Mary Sue features. For instance Aion_13 (2008, 1
December) comments on a story narrated by an original character - the long-lost daughter of
the game’s side character Yuan (Eefara, 2008): ‘I guess I can see this moving into cliché and
Suedom, but not if you're careful about it. Do a couple litmus tests, go over her character
again and balance it out as the story goes on. It's fine for now, but there’s always the danger.’
To elaborate, the Litmus test is a poll that crosschecks if your original character is a Mary
Sue, used by quite some starting writers. The advice to check the test is also illustrative of
fanfiction and the specific problems an amateur writer comes across when compared to
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original fiction. The tool is helpful to find any canon-Sues or general Mary Sues and thus
prevent misfits among the existing characters.
It would be plausible to assume that the fiction that displays greater writing skill gains
more feedback, and perhaps even more professional criticism, but this is not exactly the case.
Indeed, it seems that the longer fiction draws more attention, but this might be misleading as
well, since reviewers post there several times. Some quality fiction gains a good readers
group, but other stories go by unnoticed. This usually tends to be the case at sites where
networking, socializing and reviewing each other’s work are crucial to get more readers.
Aside from skills what matters is how active you are in the community and how long you
have been there. Nonetheless, I have also seen it work the other way around when authors
practically review each story in their category, but gain little reviews themselves. Perhaps
lower quality or alternative character portrayals lead to fewer readers here.
Interactivity and collaboration

The fact that readers can track a story and provide feedback at each chapter, gives new
possibilities to interact. Where in print-culture a book goes through several institutions before
getting published, here the readers can glance at a kind of work in progress that can still be
edited. In fact, because the story is uploaded in chapters and reviewed as such, it might be that
readers have some influence on the narrative altogether. However, some writers may choose
to pre-plan their story to such a degree that they may be reluctant to take the opinion of
reviewers into account. Indeed, often the comments are so generic that a writer may not even
be able to do something with them plot wise. Even if comments are thorough, he can only try
to pay attention to that in the future. A fanfiction author rarely edits the plot of previous
chapters: what is edited commonly includes language or the descriptions. Nonetheless I came
across quite some fanfiction that explicitly asked readers to give their opinion about aspects of
the plot or otherwise. Interestingly, some writers even calculate on audience participation
when creating a fanfic. I shall highlight a few of those examples here where writers explicitly
count on creative collaboration with their readers.
Importantly the type of fanfiction that relies on audience participation is usually
episodical, meaning that it follows a similar formula each chapter with a plot or concept that
the readers can pick. An interesting example is for instance Raine’s Cookbook (Falcon Crest,
2008) in which one of the characters, Raine, serves a bad meal each time. Raine is renowned
for her bad cooking skills in the source-text, an element that is exaggerated in this comedy.
Many of the later recipes are chosen by the readers that may suggest something relatively
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easy, for instance a pie, which Raine fails to make properly and serves her horrified little
brother. Each episode uses the same structure: First it lists the ingredients, then it shows how
to prepare the meal à la Raine, finally it is served and tasted. If the readers suggest too many
ideas, the author saves the concepts up or combines them into one mixed meal.
Another example is a parody featuring one of the characters, Kratos, who discovers
fanfiction online (LateNiteSlacker, 2006). Here the audience is asked to give suggestions as to
what dubious Tales of Symphonia stories he might read. The author’s goal is then to write a
witty, shocked response by Kratos and keep the story going. Suggestions include gender-
blenders, crossovers with The Legend of Zelda, pairings involving Kratos and more, which in
turn result in eccentric plot lines. Another story, Tales of Truth or Dare (Active Gal, 2009),
stages the author herself as a game show host that gives a new quiz each chapter. She actively
encourages the readers to contribute: ‘“Okay, let me explain the rules,” I turn (sic) towards the
camera and smile, “All you readers can send in your questions and dares in your reviews.
Even if you already send one for this chapter, you can do it again for the next chapter, and the
next, and the next chapter. So in other words, Keep sending your requests in!”’
A last example includes a fanfic that has been praised a lot over the years: Z Skit
Theater by Twilight Scribe (2006) with 4,991 reviews quite possibly the Tales of Symphonia
fic with the most comments. Featuring 335 chapters (2009, 4 June) it also seems quite long,
but the amount of words is doable since the sections are short. These ‘skits’ are imitations of
the dialogues in the game, a feature that shows thumbnails of the characters engaging in
random conversations. FanFiction.net does not allow thumbnails or script format as such,
which is why the author of Z Skit Theater uses bold and italics for certain characters to
undermine the site’s policy. A pure script format obliges one to write something as ‘Lloyd:
‘Hi Kratos!’ but here a loophole is found by simply stating in the beginning that Lloyd is
written in italics and then writing for instance Hi Kratos. Twilight Scribe aims to make new
skits that could have taken place in the game and therefore she often suggests a point in the
source-text that they could have been activated. The skits are very true to the ones in the
game, which is one of the reasons why this fanfic has drawn so much attention.
Here a large reader group is formed that comments frequently and gives suggestions
for new skits. Twilight Scribe takes these into account and credits the reviewers that coined
the concepts. The reviews are usually short and state they found a new skit hilarious.
Sometimes they go into moments or plot holes in the game that the skits play with. For
instance, some comments address problems in the source-text because the skit allows them to
elaborate on things as Lloyd’s fighting skills; angel’s wings or the political climate of the
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story world. Frequent readers also compare the skits amongst each other in terms of quality,
such as Vook (2009, 1 February): ‘HAHAHAHAHAHA this has to be one of the BEST skits
EVER! It's probably right up there with the ones where Kratos is trying to speak to Anna
about Lloyd through the Exsphere, and the ones on Kratos (skits 200 and 201)’.
The internet also facilitates ways to collaborate with other writers more extensively.
For instance, two or more authors can write a story and post it on either one’s account. The
previously mentioned Ripple Effect (2009) was an endeavour by two authors who made a new
account specifically for that fanfic. They both wrote parts of the fanfic and posted that on their
shared account. Most collaborative fanfiction I spotted, including Ripple Effect, uses the same
strategy in which an author gives the perspective of one character and the other writes another
character. Indeed this is an easy way to cooperate. Examples of this include Pirates of
Symphonia (Meowzy-chan, 2006) which is hosted at one account and lists the other author.
She has a few more collaborations hosted at her profile with different authors that write the
perspective of character Kratos. I have not found any examples of more extensive co-
authorship then this, though I presumed that this platform might have enabled that. Naturally,
it is harder to work together if you both write the same character because there might be
differences in writing style then.
Aside from reviews and collaborative fiction there are other ways for fellow-fans to
have input on a story. Some stories are made at the request or challenge of others or as a kind
of commission (e.g., Heart of Shou, 2008). Other fiction can be written to participate in a
project or contest. This sets limitations for the writer who then has to integrate a required
theme and work with that. This leads to stories that are not collaborative in an extensive sense
but coin concepts for the author nonetheless. Interestingly there also exist forums on
FanFiction.net that members can built themselves. The option is not used that much but does
provide a platform at the site itself to interact more thoroughly than via reviews or private
messages. At the forums – if you find one that is a bit active - you can address topics such as
collaborations. Though this kind of interaction seems ideal, it only works if the members are
aware of this option and use it actively.
Help, I’m a Sue! Self-conscious elements in fanfiction

Fanfiction writers also integrate more playful elements we know from other fiction as well.
Some of the more sophisticated literary devices are not uncommon there. Quite some fan-
authors embed a self-conscious image of their writing and fan practices in their fiction. In
literary studies this is usually described as metafiction to categorize that fiction which is self-
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referential. The term finds its origins in the seventies. Robert Scholes was one of the first to
describe it, as fiction that incorporates criticism on itself (1995, p. 29). The most workable
definition comes from Patricia Waugh’s book Metafiction (1984), namely, “fictional writing
which self-consciously and systemically draws attention to its status as an artefact” (p. 2).
This self-referencing interrupts the reality of the story world, but in turn shows that the writers
are highly aware of their fiction, writing and even the source-text as a specific medium,
namely a videogame, that cannot be accurately represented in prose. In Tales of Symphonia
fanfiction notably three elements depict this self-conscious fiction: Firstly, references to fan
practices within fanfiction; secondly, underlining the difference in media between the game
and prose and thirdly, the author as a protagonist in fanfiction. These aspects of fan texts
provide us with an idea of how a fan-author views himself and his writing.
It is not uncommon for fanfiction stories to refer to the practice of fanfiction or fans in
general. In some fanfiction this may be integrated without causing much discontinuity with
the story world. For instance, a main-character from the videogame, Zelos, already has fan
girls within the game so it is then only a small step to depict one of these writing fanfiction or
drawing him. In other cases this blending of fan activities and the story world is made more
explicit, though it can be argued to what degree this disrupts the narrative. Sometimes for
instance the characters engage in fan practices in stories, such as making fanfiction or fan art,
which is equated with expressing love as a plot device. As an example, in one story (Accident
Prone, 2009) Yuan is in love with Kratos but dares not show this. Whenever Kratos is near
him he starts to act like a giddy teenage girl rather than an adult man, and in his silent
devotion he makes countless portraits. The author describes these as ‘fan art’ rather than
portraits. However, courtships in fiction (and perhaps even real life) integrate similar plot
devices frequently. It is not per se fannish to make drawings of your loved one (or stories, or
unread love letters) but here it is redefined as a fan practice rather than a romantic one. Rather
than as a gay man Yuan is depicted here as a fan boy, a teenager like the actual author here.
In other cases online practices or fanfiction as such are addressed in fanfiction itself.
The story world is personalized here by blending features of the author’s daily life (e.g.,
internet) with the existing fictional universe. This can lead to awkward situations if characters
come across the fan practices that surround them. For example, in the previous section I
mentioned a story in which Kratos reads fanfiction (LateNiteSlacker, 2006). He gets a
computer and internet and starts browsing at ‘FanFiction dot net’. Naturally he is confronted
with many fanfiction parodies of the Tales-cast: ‘Meanwhile, Kratos usurped the computer
again! “Translate into English?” Blindly, he clicked away! “Kratos, I love with you!” Girl
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with brown hair and brown eyes and whose name was Anna says. “I love you!!!” Kratos
cries! “But I must tell you. I am really an alien and I love Link.” Zelda says and walks away.
THE END “……” Kratos stared at the screen, wondering if perhaps this was all just a very
bad dream’. Here fanfiction is discussed as a genre and online practice, not just an expression
of love that can easily be equated with other forms of homage and devotion. When it is
embedded in the story world as similar to for instance love letters, there is little disruption and
the theme may appeal to the fan readers as a kind of in-joke. When confronted with actual
online fanfiction the characters have to react to this practice though.
A second way in which fan-authors stage a more self-conscious narrative is by making
elements of the game explicit. They address the discrepancy between the prose as fiction and
the game which requires a GameCube, controllers and has specific RPG-features, like getting
grades or obtaining higher levels. Features of the game can be made explicit in various ways.
I already mentioned Z Skit Theater (Twilight Scribe, 2006) which is fashioned like the extra
dialogues that you can activate in the game if you wish. It aims to reflect that format
accurately: the skits are of the same length as those in the game; capture the characters in
terms of style and should fit in the source-text, by stating where the fan skits should have
taken place. In other fandoms it is not uncommon to write script fanfiction that aims to be as
true to the series as possible. For instance in the Futurama-community fan-authors write
scripts that match the existing episodes down to seconds (Bailey, 2005). This practice in Tales
of Symphonia is thus not all that unusual, but it is interesting to see that it is based on a minor
feature of the game which is enriched through these fan texts.
Other fiction plays with the line between the videogame as constructed, mediated
fiction and our actual culture. In some stories the video-game characters explore our
technology or the game’s interface. For instance, they get sucked into our world or elements
of our world (e.g., internet) are integrated in their story. I already mentioned the fanfic in
which the Tales of Symphonia cast winds up in America and wants to play its own game
(VanNeon, 2009). In other fanfiction they are awakened from the videogame as flat characters
and made into conscious human beings with all kinds of consequences. Then the lack of the
game world is made more explicit (e.g., NexusTehulF0o, 2009, ch. 5): ‘“Things are…kinda
bulgy in this world. But I think I’m beginning to like it.” Zelos mused, placing his hand to his
chin and adjusting himself on the arm of the couch. He then poked his own arm, studying the
3-D version of himself’. In some fanfiction the characters are depicted as actual humans
transported from the story world as a reality or dimension to this world. The only gap then is a
cultural one.
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Notably self-insertion fanfiction addresses the interface of a game in various ways.

Indeed this fiction has a main-motive the gamer/fan getting pulled into the story world, so it is
not strange that most of these refer to the interface at some point. For instance, a look at one
of the more renowned self-insertion fics, Two Worlds Combined (Venus Tenshi, 2005),
features a girl falling into the Tales of Symphonia world. What immediately strikes her as odd
is the disappearance of her GameCube as a mediator. This forms a motive that often returns in
the earlier chapters of this fic. The lack of her console constitutes a deviant, alternative
experience of the story world. This is solved when a few chapters later her GameCube enters
as a personification, a character by itself: ‘The girl brushes dust out of her dress before
performing a fancy bow, springing back up with a bright smile. I’m still bloody freaked. “I am
your GameCube (sic), the one and the only, here for your service!”’ (id., ch. 5). This
personification outgrows the device that is based on and has quite a cheerful personality. This
does not meet up to the main-character’s expectation: ‘I always expected my GameCube to be
kinder if it were a person – and as a male. Well, GameCubes are blue. It’s a hunch, okay? I’m
confused with myself, so I’ll shut up. I’ll just ask my GameCube when it/she gets here’ (id.).
In other self-insertion fanfics the GameCube is even the reason gamers get warped into
the game as a reality. A recurring motive is a power-off or technological fault: ‘"Of course," I
breathed, excitedly. "It was the thunderstorm! It must have zapped the GameCube or
something and...digitized...me..." My train of thought slowed as I realized the consequences
of my statement. If I had been digitized, then, I might truly be in the game... How would I get
home! Even worse, what would my parents do when they found me missing? One scorched
GameCube, fried disk, melted memory card, and no anime-loving daughter... Oh, sheezus.
They're going to have simultaneous heart attacks’ (Cerby, 2006).
Other fanfiction goes into the in-game interface - such as the battle system - more
deeply, especially when the protagonist-gamer is forced to fight monsters. It turns out that
once he or she’s fully immersed in the story world as a reality, this system has disappeared.
What is left is an experience of real-life and actual battle, much to the disappointment of some
characters, note for instance: ‘“WHAT NOW BITCH, NOW GIMME SOME
EXPERIENCE!” Unfortunately I forgot that you have to finish a battle to get any experience,
and the scorpion wasn't dead yet. Come to think of it, I honestly doubt that anyone got
experience points in this world’ (Lolbutter, 2009, chapter 2). Lack of levelling appears to be a
frequently used motive in these fictions, though some writers may address the lack of grades
or other aspects of the game such as the map. This is less common though, since the surprise
that there are no levels or accounts of damage is one of the first things a gamer would realize
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when he goes into battle in this lived story world. The absence of a battle system will then be
taking into account in the following events.
A third way of displaying self-consciousness is through the fan-protagonist of self-
insertion fanfiction. As a gamer the author of this genre of fanfiction is highly aware of
certain aspects of the story world. This also leads to a very specific kind of story in which the
author is portrayed as the fan he or she is. The identity of the author as a fan also makes him a
deviant subject in the story world. For starters he is highly aware of what will happen because
he is a fan that has consumed the game. Naturally this leads to foreshadowing and
developments in which he as a protagonist already knows the outcome and can even alter the
plot line. A good example is this passage: ‘“That must be Magnius,” Genis says as we stop on
the bridge, our group silent agreeing not to take action until ab-so-lute-ly necessary. The last
thing we want to do is get anyone killed who shouldn’t actually have to be. I know Magnius
killed that man in the game, but what if he doesn’t exactly stop there? And what if Chocolat
doesn’t come and Cacao dies? Gah. Must think positively’ (Venus Tenshi, 2005, ch. 27).
The protagonist of a self-insertion story also pays specific attention to the characters
and world as such. In most cases this is a dream coming true. Making acquaintance with the
cast of the game leads to awkward situations in which the fan displays his affinity. Here a fan
gets sword fighting class from one of the characters: ‘“Try the beginning, and things may get
easier.” Kratos advised coolly, leaning back against Noishe with his sword in his lap. I stared
at both of them for a moment, resisting a very strong fangirlish urge to run over there and hug
him to death. But no, that wouldn't be wise, he would probably slice my head off long before I
got to him’ (Cerby, 2006). Naturally the characters do not know the fan yet, but the fan might
accidentally make a slip of the tongue. Note this first conversation between the author-
protagonist and the characters: “It's okay, Colette, my parents had died, believing… in Martel.
They would be happy...” I explained, giving a small smile. “How did you know her name?”
Lloyd questioned, also giving me a suspicious glance. Niiiiice job, Gabby I did so damn'
good, now how do I expect to get myself out of this one’ (Cinnamon Chan, 2009, ch. 2).
As a fan with an affective relation towards the characters that knows all the ins and
outs of the game, it is problematic at some points to blend into the world perfectly. Though
some fans might feel at home in the game, they want to get home in these narratives usually
too and then cooperation with the existing cast is essential. At other points it is made clear the
fan is from another world and should not make the mistake of referring to things that do not
exist in the story world. In one fic the author poses as a teacher: ‘“If you teach yourself then
there has to be a subject you like above all others,” he says. It was posed as a half fact half
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question. What is my favourite subject anyway? It’s Japanese, but there is no Japan in
Sylvarant, and that would lead to some odd questions. I guess I’ll have to go with my second
favourite’ (Venus Tenshi, 2005, ch. 6). The author-protagonist thus constantly has to think
about how he behaves and what he states.
As a fan the protagonist here is also highly aware of fanfiction practices which results
in fanfiction referring to fanfiction. The fan can address that the plot reminds him of self-
insertion fiction, perhaps to his disappointment: ‘That’s impossible. I am not in Tales of
Symphonia. I am not in Iselia, and I am definitely not in a very clichéd self insertion who
joins the Chosen and Lloyd on the journey of regeneration and saves the world at the end’
(IceQueen890, 2009, ch. 1). Before getting pulled into the virtual reality of the story, some
fans may be reading or writing fanfiction, such as in this example of Kitty29 (2009):
‘Seriously, I think I should stop loving anime and start taking crack or something. Really,
getting trapped in a video game? What is this fanfiction dot net? And sure, next thing I know
Lloyd and Genis are gonna get married and Colette’s gonna pull out two machine guns and go
Rumbo on everyone’s asses. Hehheh…that would be awesome. But alas, I am not in a video
game, nor sucked into the internet’.
Self-insertion fics sometimes make very ironical statements about other self-insertion
fics, for instance: ‘One thing that always annoyed me about these fan fictions were self
inserts. I’ve never been a fan of Mary Sues and so I avoided these self inserts like the plague.
One day I was bored and had nothing else to read, so I clicked on a little something titled
“Two Worlds Combined”. And by God, I’ve been hooked ever since’ (Whatsername427,
2009, ch. 1). In Nightfoot’s Tales of Cosplayers a few cosplayers enter the story world and
refer to fan practices throughout the narrative. One of the protagonists even starts to wonder if
she has not turned into the Mary Sues she despises as a fan (2008, ch. 43). Sadly she has to
conclude that she did.
The fan-author
Fanfiction is written by fans who emotionally invest in certain aspects of a source-text. This
reflects on their writing practices in several ways. The question is then to what degree these
fans are authors and vice versa. How does this specific cultural category of authorship
operate? We have seen various elements of this already: the genres; the (fan) community and
its specific feedback; the references to fan practices or aspects of the source-text. In the
previous section I also highlighted one notable example of how a fan’s and author’s identity
can overlap through the author-protagonist. In this section I shall address this double identity
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even further: firstly by going into ownership and authorship, then by discussing how
authorship is addressed explicitly in fan texts and lastly by describing fan-authors that gained
a small fan community themselves.
As we have seen in the previous sections fans are aware that the characters and
settings do not belong to them. Nonetheless they feel attached to the product and want to
explore it imaginatively. To assure proper (legal) attribution fans usually post a disclaimer
above their fiction. A common disclaimer usually looks roughly like this: ‘I do not own Tales
of Symphonia, Namco does’. Because disclaimers are used in almost every fanfic and get
cliché easily, fans try to be a bit more inventive. Note for instance this disclaimer: ‘I don't
own Tales of Symphonia, or any of its components. This is a work of fiction meant to honor a
great piece of fiction and is in no way intended to undermine intellectual rights. Please don't
sue me’ (Joshuaorrizonte, 2007). This often leads to ironical suppositions of emotional
ownership or the wish to own the source-text: ‘I don't own Tales of Symphonia, which
depresses me to no end’ (Whatsername427, 2007, ch. 42). Other disclaimers emphasize this
wishful thinking by adressing what they would have done if they had owned the source-text,
for instance: ‘I do NOT own Tales of Symphonia or its characters. If I did, Kratos would
never have left and the ending would be much [sic] better’ (Active Gal, 2009) or
‘SakuMeiMei does not own the game Tales of Symphonia. Otherwise Kratos would be way
faster than he is right now and Zelos would be in your party from the very beginning’
(SakuMeiMei, 2006). Other authors note down what they added to the source-text by
describing that the original characters or concepts that belong to them: ‘I do not own ToS...
but sadly I do own Raine's recipes...’ (Falcon crest, 2008).
These disclaimers thus show an authorial dimension of fanfiction - a sense of
originality and authorship in transformative fiction and a wish to create an inspiring story -
and a fannish one - the characters or structure of a game; the affinity with that specific source-
text and explicit hierarchy between the fan and the corporation that owns the product. I briefly
referred to author’s notes earlier which can trigger specific informal discussions, comments
on writing or discussions about the source-text. Importantly author’s notes at the beginning or
end of each chapter give insights in the identity of the fan-author. Some author’s notes go
more into problems related to writing while others answer questions of readers and thus create
an informal bound with the audience. However, most of the time elements of the source-text
and fan text or even fan community are mixed. To exemplify with a typical author’s note: ‘I
love the Zelos/Lloyd pairing to bits. But reading the stories with it, it looks like in most of
them, Zelos is all too close to a rapist. And what’s with the crap of Lloyd always getting
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bottom? Yea, so I decided to see what I could do about that. I’m trying to stay true to their
characters so…please let me know how I’m doing’ (Accident Prone, 2009). The statements
here shift in discourse by referring to: source-text, fan community, the uploaded fan text and
authorial practice. This again shows how the fan-author is occupied with the existing text, the
fandom and his own written fan text and the quality thereof.
In reviews readers frequently make claims related to authorship as we have seen in the
previous paragraphs. They refer to the quality of the text, how it fits the game, the character
portrayals and others. However, some of them also explicitly address authorship, not just by
making statements about style and grammar, but by stating this fan is in fact an author who
deserves to be recognized as such. Here the status of an author in the conventional sense of
the word is reflected on the fan-author, who is seen as more than just a writer. Note this
energetic review of Grand Kid (Freakyanimegirl, 2005): ‘Everything lined up perfectly. U R
A GENIUS! Just... perfect... flawless... funny... full of twisting plot... MEANINGFUL plot.
This is very rare, I must say. Imagination, humor, a fantastic flow of dialogue, and a well
developed plot in one story’ (Eyes of the infinite galaxy, 2007, ch. 87). Laudatory reviews are
nothing new but those that explicitly address the fan as an actual author are somewhat rare.
Another insightful example of how the fan-author can be valued is this longer review
on Shadowwind’s fanfiction (2005): ‘Ever since I discovered fanfiction some seven-
something years prior, I have read millions of words typed by a multitude of different authors,
each writing with their own unique style in the fandom they chose build upon already existing
ideas in. But never--NEVER-- have I had the priveledge [sic] to read a story such as the epic
typed out before me. Over six-hundred-thousand words in length were [sic] the world ran a
different way. I believe without a doubt Namco would have purchased and published this idea
off of you--or made a comic mini-series of it, at the very least. You are truly a talented and
gifted crafter of your language, and it is my greatest hope that [sic] take the pride that you
deserve in your skill (Afficiando, 2008, ch. 28). In other reviews the author is compared to
praised authors of literature to describe the quality of the fanfic that readers consider to be
high: ’I read a book called "The Catcher in the Rye" maybe you have readed [sic] it yourself,
but the author writes in a really similar way like you, all sarcastic and funny, I love it!
(Supergulo, 2007 on Venus Tenshi, 2005, ch.73) or ‘you have to be the best writer I have seen
on this site and if you ever publish a book and make it avalible [sic] in America I will buy it’
(Tiger002, on id., ch. 57).
In some cases fanfiction authors gain a fan community of their own and fiction is
derived from their fiction. In the Tales of Symphonia fandom I found various examples of
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that. For starters, Venus Tenshi has quite some readers. Some of them make fan art which
they host at other sites, but are linked to for instance in author’s notes. Others derive
fanfiction of her work (e.g., Metamorcy, 2009) or feel inspired by her (e.g., Whatsername427,
2007). Similarly one can find fan art and fiction based on the fanfic Grand Kid (2005) and its
sequel. Whatsername427 also gained a wide readership throughout the years and features a lot
of fan art in her profile. Authors happily distribute the derived works of their own fiction and
feel flattered. It seems that lengthy fanfiction that has been around for years has the potential
to become really successful and some fans will invest in the original characters as well.
In some cases the format of fanfiction has been a source of inspiration for readers.
Notably Z-skit Theatre (Twilight Scribe, 2006) has led to other fiction that adopts the same
format. Recently two fanfics (BrandonGlee123, 2009; Kitty-Katz-Katz, 2008) were published
in the same dialogue format, derived from the sequel of Tales of Symphonia. Both fan-authors
asked permission of the author of Z-skit Theater to use a similar ploy which shows that
although fans may borrow material from other texts, they are also concerned with authority
and paying tribute when necessary. In this case a fanfic inspires other authors to use the same
strategy for their own works, though unfortunately they do not reach the same level of quality
and success. Others may feel inspired to make a kind of sequel to existing fanfiction. One of
my interviewees, Iris Maassen, wrote her first fanfic when she felt she needed to attribute to
an existing fanfic. Being new in this field, she did not ask the author for permission, which
she regretted later. The author discovered her fanfic nonetheless and responded positively by
promoting it at her own site.
To broaden their story world and reach a different audience, some fans choose to
enrich their narrative through various media. Illustrating the story then or commissioning fan
art of others to support the text is not uncommon. Some fans upload their fiction with these
images at their personal site, since FanFiction.net does not include an image option. Others
may explore different media. Meowzy-chan for instance created a roleplaying community at
LiveJournal (2006) to support her Idiot Seraphim universe. There she roleplayed with several
of her readers in the fanfiction’s setting. In some cases a fanfic can thus be transformative in a
double sense, as being based on a source-text as well as a fan text. The fan practices and
emotional connection are then the same towards a fan text as to a popular text. Again fans,
inspired by a good story, want to be more indulged with the characters, setting and events.
Those fans that learn a lot through their fanfiction and keep at it at some point may be
surprised to find that they inspire others to transform their stories too.
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When the fan becomes a well-read writer, what becomes famous is his nickname, not
the actual name which is often harder to find. The nicknames fans adopt are frequently related
to a fandom they were in or still participate in. When checking author’s names at
FanFiction.net it also appeared many had a nickname related to a more general fandom, say
anime, rather than Tales of Symphonia specifically. Others had very playful nicknames
indicating a degree of cuteness – for instance by adding cute in their name or ‘chan’ after their
name, a Japanese word indicating someone is young or small. A nickname is one of the first
things people will notice, therefore it is given a lot of attention. FanFiction.net has so many
members that a new member is also forced to choose creatively because the conventional
nicknames are taken. In general fans use the same nickname at various platforms: changing
nicknames is not something one easily does, even if one’s affinity with a fandom declines. It
is something you grow attached to and have gained friends with. Nicknames in fanfiction
hardly resemble more general literary devices as pseudonyms. While pseudonyms are
frequently used to make an author more special, mysterious or detach him from his fiction,
fans will use their nickname to emphasize an affinity with a certain interest, fandom or culture
or highlight an aspect of their personality. It is a more playful practice and in some cases
aimed at becoming accepted in a community easily.
A look at this case-study might lead to the supposition that it is hard to gain a
reputation as good fanfiction author. As addressed before, the values are very specific and
those that write in popular genres or fandoms are more likely to get readers. Moreover, it also
matters how the writer interacts online with the other writers, readers and perhaps his fellow-
fans at different platforms. All of this might even count more than the quality of an author’s
writing. However, it also turns out that within these fields writers can get recognition if they
meet the wished criteria of their selective audience and mingle these with personal elements.
Something original – in terms of plot and style – in the fan text is highly appreciated.
Fanfiction might seem a limitation for the writer to some degree since it sets many values that
original writing does not have. However, quality wise the limit is lower for writers. This also
assures that those who continue at it can grow artistically and if they wish, indulge in other
writing practices as well.
By being embedded in a certain community the fan-author relies on his readers in
different ways than other writers. A fanfic cannot be read by everyone and has to go through a
process of becoming accepted in the community. It is a type of art that immediately draws an
audience, but at the same time also excludes other reader groups. The more accepted a fanfic
becomes, the more recognition the author will get. Those that stay in one fandom for a long
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time and keep at it will get attention and develop their skills. One of those particular skills is
writing or acting out an existing character properly. That is what the next chapter discusses
when exploring the performative dimension of transformative works, which is illustrated via
textual roleplaying.
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Chapter 4
Performative authorship: Writing and role-playing characters
The practice and varieties of role-playing

In the last chapter fan communities, collaborative writing and reviewing systems were
addressed that influenced the way fanfiction was created and read. Here the readers had a
degree of interaction and input since authors relied on their audience as being active and
familiar with the source-text. Stories with many participants were absent here, but are
dominant in other strains of fanfiction. This chapter will address fan practices expressed
through role-playing games or (RPG’s) and the stories that are told there. In these games all
players assume the role of a fictional character. The narrative is structured via rules or
guidelines in which the players determine actions for their characters. In some games a player
starts blank and develops his character in the process; in others he plans the background of
this fictional persona carefully.
The actions in a role-play are very diverse: they can be a plot-related, a conversation
or based on the (fighting) skills of the characters. A role-playing game stands out from
traditional story such as written stories in a sense that it is collaborative and every participant
can have input. The story becomes interactive and relies on an active audience to construct it
and improvise. While some role-plays emphasize interaction and storytelling, the
incorporation of skills or teams can also trigger a sense of competition that makes the game
more exciting. In terms of structure role-playing games need a system, players and supervisor;
I shall briefly touch upon these three elements.
Role-playing games come in all shapes and sizes. Traditionally the participants were
in the same social setting, but nowadays the internet has stimulated online role-playing.
Among the first of these games were tabletop role-playing games, notably Dungeons and
Dragons, which are played in real life with a small social group and various handbooks. Most
tabletop RPG’s tend to follow the Dungeons and Dragons as a formula which includes
statistics and an element of chance via dice rolling. Other tabletops favour less game play and
focus on storytelling with a more fluid structure. Role-playing games can also be conducted in
real life in a more theatrical way in for instance live-action role-plays (LARP). These games
are played in costume and with many props such as specific soft weapons. The sessions will
often last a weekend with many participants enabling a large story that may include battles.
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Computer-mediated role-plays also include a variety of systems and structures. The
first online role-playing games were textual and explored through specific programmes.
Nowadays one can also participate in a role-play via boards, chat and blogs, to which I shall
pay attention in the next sections. Here the story and interaction is written and the image one
has of his fellow-players is often envisioned through text. Of course one can also role-play
through video games that have made a specific genre of RPG’s. These are slightly different
from tabletop role-playing games. Especially the single-player games (e.g., Tales of
Symphonia) do not feature the spontaneous interaction with fellow-players and input in a story
which is so characteristic of the traditional games. Here a video game mostly borrows the
structure of the earlier role-plays in terms of narrative (quest structure) or game-play (that
includes building skills and gaining more expertise) but lacks the interactivity. Multiplayer
role-playing games usually resemble traditional tabletop role-playing games a lot in a sense
that they do have moderators or game masters, various players and rely on interaction. The
degree to which participants can enable a story and improvise in these video games is
however debatable and depends on the game.
The character of a role-play can be an existing one or original, depending on the role-
play. The fictional character has to be coherent, plausible and the player needs to stay true to
his personality when interacting with the others. To some degree the character may overlap
with the player and become a fictional alter ego. To quote role-play theorists Hakkarainen and
Stenros (2002): ‘A character is a framework of roles through which the player interacts within
the game, and for which she constructs an illusion of a continuous and fixed identity, a
fictional "story of self" binding the separate, disconnected roles together’. This bridging
between the self and the character will become apparent throughout this chapter. When
referring to the players of a character I use the term ‘players’ rather than ‘gamers’, ‘writers’ or
‘authors’ since this is the most common term to refer to the participants of a role-play.
Furthermore, the other terms highlight only part of the role-playing practice which, as a game
mediated through writing, forms a specific type of storytelling.
The game master (GM) is a referee that guides the game, makes sure the rules are
followed and that characters are, and behave, suitable for that role-play. His functions include
helping with the rules, securing the narrative and providing interaction. Online the game
master is often also the moderator of the site and will then also be referred to as moderator or
mod. Though he fulfils the same purpose as a traditional game master, online he also has the
practical function of moderating for instance a board or virtual community. The game master
sometimes has a playable character as well, especially in online textual role-playing games
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this function is often fulfilled by experienced players or founders of the game who participate
themselves. Guiding a live-action role-play with many participants leads to a different
organisational structure. Usually these games have a larger staff and not one or a few
moderators or game masters.
Though role-plays include an element of game-play the emphasis is on collaborative
storytelling. Manuals of various role-plays, guide lines, players and scholars frequently
underline the interactive dimension as specific to this fiction (e.g., Stratton, 2009; Waskul and
Luts, 2004; Wikipedia, 2009). A role-play can be defined as a type of participatory story-
telling in which all players contribute to the narrative and its development. More than the
collaborative efforts mentioned in the last chapter, role-playing relies on its audience to
construct the story. The game masters may have more input but this is mostly to provide a
structure to the narrative and the game-play. The way the story unravels is dependent on the
system the players use and their own input.
What all these role-playing games have in common is the element of make-belief: on
the one hand by adopting a character or persona and playing that out, on the other by imaging
and co-creating the story world which functions through conventions or symbolism (Murray,
1997, notably chapter 4; Waskul and Luts, 2004). Posing as a character, behind the pc or in
real life, is what role-playing is all about. For some players this character, especially if it is an
original one, may be very close to their actual personality; others deliberately construct or
choose a character that is opposite to themselves. Like in all fiction the original character can
also be a hybrid of fictional preferences of the writer, subtly constructed from texts he or she
is acquainted with. When choosing an existing character a player may have different criteria
when selecting such as: a high affinity with the source-text or fandom; completing the cast of
a source-text in a fan role-play; a particular liking of a character; comfortable or easy play
because a character has distinctive features; exploration of certain side characters.
In the game imagining other players as their fictional counterparts and a mundane
setting (e.g., a virtual forum; an actual table with props) as the story world is essential.
Through this imagining immersion in the narrative can be achieved. To sustain or reach this
state of mind behaviour that is out of character - related to the player himself - is regulated
strictly. Opposed to this is in character behaviour when the player has assumed the role of the
protagonist. Make-belief is crucial here and can be held up in various ways. In real life
costumes or props can help envision the story world better, though table-top role-plays like
Dungeons and Dragons are usually played without too much ado. At LiveJournal icons are
for instance part of the theatrics. Role-playing relies heavily on symbolism by envisioning
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props, items, interfaces, people, and texts as something that they are not. This element of play
may remind some of children’s games, a comparison that is often made. Though at first this
seems slightly belittling, it is a justified reasoning: like children the adults here use their
active imagination to construct a story world that is built up from personal elements, tastes
and a collective consensus.
In terms of genre or setting role-plays differ immensely. From fantasy-settings, to
historical periods, to science fiction and fan role-plays based on all kinds of texts, the
possibilities are as broad as the participants can envision. Fan role-plays are specific for this
research and can be staged in two ways. Firstly, some role-plays adopt the setting of a source-
text (e.g., Hogwarts, a certain point of the Star Wars timeline) and play that out, often with
characters of their own that fit the source-text. Secondly, role-play can adopt the characters
from the source-text by using either multiple fandoms (e.g., you can choose any cartoon
character you like) which is described as a multi-fandom RPG, while others focus on just one
series (e.g., you can only choose a Tales of Symphonia character).
Online role-playing games can be conducted in several ways via graphical interfaces
or textual ones where writing mediates the game-play. Textual role-playing games were
among the first online games altogether with early systems as MUD’s, short for multi-user
dungeons: large textual environments with various rooms or settings. These programs have
been around since the mid-seventies in various varieties (e.g., Ryan, 2001, p. 310). The
MUD’s that are more object-oriented (MOO’s) also allow players to interact with objects.
These programs rely on the one hand on programmed content such as fixed descriptions of
characters, objects and settings and on the other hand on spontaneous chats and actions by
participants. MUD’s drew some attention from scholars over the years. These role-plays
predate other online roleplaying practices such as MMORPG’s, massive online multiplayer
role-playing games (e.g., World of Warcraft) which have gained great popularity over the last
years. Somewhat later role-plays have also been mediated through forums, e-mail, boards,
chat-programs and lately SNS-sites as well. These have unfortunately not been subjected to
much scholarly research yet.
Because my point of focus was transformative fiction based on Tales of Symphonia,
which had no separate role-play, I focused on one role-play that had a great deal of the
characters from the game: Luceti, a multi-fandom role-playing community at LiveJournal, a
widely used system for role-playing. I analyzed this community from 1 April to 16 May after
which I applied to the role-play with a character to gather specific data on the application and
to understand more of the practice in terms of writing. A multi-fandom role-playing game is
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based on various existing texts and thus allows a similar transformative practice as actual
fanfiction.
The kind of authorial practices that writers engage in here can be described as
transformative authorship. The writing practice is not exactly the same as in chapter 3 though.
To describe the enactment of existing characters better, I coined the term performative
authorship. A role-play is more performative than prose in a sense that the player enacts a
character in dialogues and without too much description. A play revolves around on being in
character. Where the prose writer can enable developments of a character without much ado,
resolve a plot by himself and write multiple characters, the role-player depends on those that
interact with him. This performativity will be highlighted here.
The research on role-play communities on LiveJournal is scarce and explorative. Most
studies focus on the system as a means for social networking (e.g., Wilber, 2007). Those texts
that specifically have role-play blogs as their subject view the texts as a subset of fanfiction
(Lackner et al, 2006; Carrell, 2009; Stein, 2006). Since these games rely on the enactment of
existing texts, depicting them as fanfiction seems logical. Nonetheless they differ from the
fanfiction of last chapter in a sense that they are also a game, ergo, an enjoyable activity
structured through rules and aimed at fulfilling a certain goal. The story thereby follows a
different narrative format because it is guided through these game features and relies on social
interaction. It shall become clear that textual role-plays enable a collaborative storytelling in
ways that the prose on FanFiction.net did not.
Role-playing systems online: Defining these texts and their writers

Textual role-playing games online differ in their practices in that each poses different limits
according to the system it uses. In this section I shall compare the research on MUD’s with
other systems, notably LiveJournal and Twitter, to discern between the writing practices that
are established on these platforms. The role-plays on LiveJournal and on boards are
frequently packed together as play-by-post. This means that players post a message to which
others can reply without a real time-limit. Other role-plays, for instance via chat, rely on fast,
spontaneous interaction while play-by-post allows a player to reply when he can and think
about a message thoroughly. In terms of quality this is a good thing, since a player can take
the time to conduct posts that are worthwhile and befit a character. The posts are saved, and
can be checked by everyone, which assures that the story and interaction can still be retraced.
This becomes slightly harder when dealing with systems that rely more on their game features
and personal logs to save the stories (e.g., MUD’s).
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Textual systems pose analytical problems for a scholar because they are aimed at users
and often lack a good overview. Importantly, though there is an overarching story, many role-
plays have players that develop personal relations within a role-play and individual stories. A
character in a larger role-play will not interact with everyone because there are that many
participants and a player will not be aware of everything that is written out. Good moderators
(or characters) that summarize the very relevant discussions can then be essential. The
interaction usually takes place one on one though sometimes larger discussions can be held if
the characters are assumed to be in one place. All of this depends on the role-play and the
system, but LiveJournal-communities in general feature a lot of one on one interaction. When
looking at a role-play and reading the various discussions one can never really get a good
overview of what is happening because a role-play, like actual life, features not one narrative,
but countless.
One of the more interesting questions is also whether role-plays mediated by writing
are the same as authorial practices. Janet Murray (1997) for instance argues that adopting a
creative role in for instance a MUD or game is something else than having authorship. You
are first and foremost an interactor who depends on a script someone else has provided. This
interaction is facilitated by the procedural author: the actual writer who has enabled you to
interact with the text and has given you these multiple paths, frames or patterns to work with
(e.g., p. 194). ‘Procedural authorship means writing the rules by which the texts appear as
well as writing the texts themselves. It means writing the rules for the interactor’s
involvement, that is, the conditions under which things will happen in response to the
participant’s actions’ (p. 152).
However, Murray’s concept seems to refer explicitly to coders of digital content,
programmers or authors of hypertext. In her chapter Procedural Authorship (pp. 185-247) she
mainly explains the narrative structure of games and how one could facilitate interaction at
best. Though an interesting term, procedural authorship would not be the right way to
describe practices on already existing platforms such as LiveJournal, which have a basic form
and are used alternatively, for instance, to play games. Here there is no procedural author who
planned this kind of interaction and foresaw that users would communicate there in such a
manner. Also, behind LiveJournal there is an entire team that designed the interface, and users
make the most of its (hyper)textual abilities. The user could be perceived as a procedural
author in a sense that he makes use of the images, tags, texts and html possibilities to achieve
the best representation of, for instance, an existing character. However, since he provides the
reader with limited choices this is not exactly the same as Murray’s term of procedural
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authorship which implies that you give the reader multiple patterns in a text. The choices for
the reader are limited here and enabled by user options.
One could argue that the moderator of a role-playing game has an extent of procedural
authorship in a sense that he is a game master. The structure of a role-play relies on the game
master who ensures the rules are played out correctly, thinks of the general plot and steers the
interaction when it is needed. A difference would be here that the game master also plays
along as a specific persona himself like the others. The moderator at LiveJournal is a guide
and someone who also organizes the game in real life: he checks the applications of potential
new attendees, promotes the game and updates general parts of the community. For instance,
at Luceti, the moderators play very distinct characters in the game: scientists that pull the
strings in that world and experiment on the players.
Though the moderators can be seen as having more impact on the game in various
ways, they cannot be seen as the authors. The players have immense impact on the game and
all of them invest great effort in writing their characters properly and reading those of others.
Sometimes they turn in a different direction than the moderators intended them too. The
participants are in general aware of their messages and interaction in terms of quality, unlike a
MUD or chat session in which you adopt a certain persona: those conversations are often
brief, comical and condensed and may include going out of character at random (e.g., id., 115-
119).
Whether MUD’s actually manage to construe a large story is a question altogether.
Sherry Turkle (1995, p. 11) considers them ‘collectively written literature’ while Marie-Laure
Ryan (2001, p. 312) believes it depends on the role-play you are in and the players there. In
another essay she highlights MUD’s provide characters and a setting, but no actual plot and
that most of it is ‘small talk’ (2004b, p. 345). While a MUD is very much based on permanent
descriptions and actions, at LiveJournal a player has more freedom to explore the story and
the setting by referring to spontaneously imagined, rather than programmed content. The role-
player at LiveJournal can shape the world without codes or commands inherent of an object.
The blog-based role-play has freedom in writing and descriptions since it is independent of
programming. Communities such as Luceti operate via highly textual blogs with time and
location gaps and incorporate long fictional messages. Considerable effort is invested in the
style, the visual elements of the message and the descriptions. This kind of exploring makes
these role-playing games particularly enjoyable to read, while a MUD-session will often seem
like a chat or off-topic for an outsider.
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Also, when analyzing a MUD, there is never an overarching story because no player
sees everything. You are always in one setting and never get an overview of the entire game.
Game theorist Espen Aarseth (1999) describes this as follows: ‘A MUD is an ephemeral
phenomenon, with numerous, mutually exclusive perspectives, and no one can have a total
view of it all’. At LiveJournal there can be many participants, but in general it is easier to
analyze and track the interaction because the blog interface that saves all text. However, the
text of comments cannot be edited so what is published is always the original message. This is
important, since fanfiction can be edited for mistakes. The role-player thus carefully has to
check his comment before posting.
Furthermore, a MUD facilitates some solitary play (via locations and objects), while at
LiveJournal one is dependent on his fellow-players for interaction. This naturally afflicts the
quality of a role-play. As you will read in the following, the role-playing games at
LiveJournal rely on their players in general. There is a specific emphasize on justifying a
character’s actions and input and on the maintenance of one’s character. Overall I realized
while doing ethnography at Luceti and going through other sites that role-playing a fan text
here is not about chatting, but about facilitating an optimal, entertaining dialogue that does
justice to the characters. It is also about collaborating and weaving a story with many people
that unfolds slowly and in which each can take his part. This is not to say that a MUD cannot
be very well-plotted, but it is more difficult since it is a social space that provides more
context than actual text and lacks an overview (e.g., Aarseth, 1997, 145-147).
It is true that MUD-systems can incorporate fan practice but in general I found these to
be a less interesting case-study since they indeed are more of a game if one compares them to
fictional blogs. The practice at LiveJournal proves to be something different altogether and
very deliberately construed. Still, both blogging and MUD’s have something in common in
terms of theatrics and performance and I would argue that both are strands of performative
writing. That is not to say that MUD’s are the only role-playing media around. I already
mentioned various chat sites, though SNS-sites as MySpace are also used for role-playing
(e.g. Peeters, 2007) and role-play activity at notably Twitter is increasing. This micro-
blogging system relies on very short texts describing what people are doing at the moment
and relies on brief interaction. This makes it much more immediate and direct than fanfiction
or LiveJournal blogs (Caddell, 2009, p. 8). I would also argue it adds more realism to role-
playing with its emphasis on small actions and daily activities.
What is specifically attractive about Twitter as a platform is the fact that it has an
element of game play: The more you participate with good tweets (messages) and gain
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followers, the more you are judged worthy of attention. Of course gaining a lot of watchers or
followers or friends is a typical SNS-feature, however, note that LiveJournal role-playing
games are less based on things like friends pages. In common blogs these might be a sign of
status, but in role-playing communities they are not. Your character, being engaged in a role-
play at a community, already has a fixed friends page solely for that role-play and random
readers usually know this. Those role-players at LiveJournal that do not belong to a
community, but for instance maintain a fictional character blog, might rely more on SNS-
features to get an idea of how much readers they have and if they can recruit more.
Since Twitter has no specific role-playing communities, only profiles with followers,
there can be several players with the same character at the large Twitter community (Jenkins,
2009; Caddell, 2009). Naturally this causes problems when a series is popular and role-
players move to Twitter. Within the Mad Men fandom this caused fights between two over the
reputation of the best role-player of the character. This was based not only on the way the
character was performed, but also on the use of the system as such: ‘In fact, as the two Betty
Draper’s argued about who deserved that character the number of followers and the number
of individual tweets played a significant role in their argument’ (id., p. 9). Just as we have
seen with fanfiction as prose, what matters is a good use of the platform as well. We will see
in the following that at LiveJournal this is also crucial.
At the moment Twitter is not that big as a platform for role-playing but this will surely
increase. It is used a lot for Western content but not for Japanese pop-culture, in contrast with
LiveJournal which is currently dominant in fandoms based on Japanese products. It is
interesting to see that some systems tend to draw a different kind of fan group than others, but
it remains hard to pinpoint why that is. In the following I shall try to describe the writing
practices on LiveJournal in detail via a case-study to analyze how these authors view
themselves. When discussing the practice of role-playing as a type of storytelling, a more
collaborative and performative idea of authorship is highlighted.
Luceti: The plot and its characters

Blissfully unaware you wander through a large town of your home world. Maybe you are
shopping or enjoying the culture. Or maybe you are not in a town at all, but on board a boat
or, if you are from an advanced civilization, a star ship. All seems well until you loose
consciousness. The minute you wake up it appears you are kidnapped and somehow grew a
pair of wings in the process. In the distance you see a village that might be worth exploring,
you might as well take a chance. Wherever you came from, you are in Luceti now, a new
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world with new rules and you had better get used to it. The town is of medium size, with a
barrier around it, at the far reaches of it there is a desert, or so the rumours say. You observe
the situation a bit and notice that the population seems pretty strange. Everyone looks entirely
different in terms of clothing and appearance. The only things they have in common are wings
and barcodes. You need some help, food and a place to stay, it is time to start interacting.
As a diverse multi-fandom role-playing game Luceti features characters from all kinds
of series: from Star Trek, to Twilight, to Avatar; from people to summon spirits to a small
wolf that cannot talk but posts descriptions of her actions. Everyone can interact freely, but at
some points you might be more drawn to those that are from your own source-text. The
interaction with different fandoms and cultures develops the characters into different persons
than they were in the source-text. Nonetheless, you cannot stretch the characters too far: Their
actions needs to make sense in terms of the pre-existing story and the new narrative, the role-
play itself. New relations between texts are established then in one crossover setting: Regal,
ex-con from Tales of Symphonia, now dates Gelda from Tales of the Abyss; Lloyd is pals with
Vyse from Skies of Arcadia; Raine still cares for her little brother Genis and just like back
home she gives courses at the local school. No existing character can be there twice, but
suppose you stop role-playing, your character is sent home. Then someone else can apply
from the same character who is acted out differently then and does not remember ever having
been in Luceti. Aside from the existing cast there are a few non-playable characters in the
game, some animals and a few elemental spirits.
Luceti excludes practically no texts. Players can base themselves even on written
content as books or original fiction that they created themselves, but a problem here is that the
protagonists are usually not visual. Except for illustrated fiction and graphic novels, the
characters in books remain unseen. This becomes an issue in a sense that one needs icons that
visualize a character at LiveJournal. In these cases players can apply with cast-by’s, meaning
that a character is performed by a certain actor, celebrity, model or artwork. Cast-by’s thus
add another dimension to performing a character by basing it on other texts or people again as
a means of online representation. A character is mediated here twice in the performance: once
by the author who writes it and once by the cast-by icons. Two layers of performative
authorship can thus be defined here.
One of the players at Luceti, under the nickname Compos_Mentis, even has various
actors and models as his character’s icons. All of these cast-by’s should represent his
character, Nina, though they are all images from various media sources and artwork. Here the
character almost becomes a symbol or generic description based on the commonality that
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these women have green eyes and red hair. New transmedial relations and relations between
the character, writer and icon are thus established only through these profile pictures. Where it
seems evident that Luceti juxtaposes a new story world with the source-texts, here the layer of
the character’s appearance constitutes another layer of interpretation and transformation.
Luceti is not just a place of multi-fandom interaction where texts are combined. It is
also a place where a large main plot is unfolding in a kind of whodunit fashion. The wings,
the barrier and the bar codes: all the characters wonder how they are affected by these and
what their use might be. In part this might be explained by the fact that in Luceti you are a test
subject. Just outside the barrier a group of hostile semi-scientists, the Malnosso, experiment
on you. No resident knows how or why these tests are run, but the new posts from the
moderator’s characters increasingly give hints to what might be going on. The moderators
pose as two traitors of the villainous Malnosso that can offer help to the citizens, but since
they might be spied on, the information they give is limited. Being moles in their
organisation, they can only provide some hints through secret channels. Players are left with
many questions. Are the Malnosso the native species of this dimension? Did they get
everyone out of different stories/worlds to deduce specific data? Are they looking for
something or someone? How can they be stopped?
At some points characters become less attached to a source-text. For instance,
particularly hostile characters quickly start to behave more politely in Luceti because they are
isolated from their home world and dependent on the cast there. The interaction characters
have at Luceti might lead to relationships, some of which might last for years when the role-
players remain active in their hobby. The story world is a lived environment and this leads to
particular choices, problems and conflicts. For example, some characters may want to get
married or even have children. In the FAQ (2008) this is explicitly addressed and it is made
very clear that, both in and out of character, players have to make a decision here: ‘Please
make sure the child will be accounted for and that it won't just be some random fluke. Kids
are serious, even in RP. D: But remember, the only reason children can be born is because the
Malnosso want new test subjects. They won't be exempt from some of the bad experiments
that may go down. Please take this into account before your characters decide to have a child’.
To keep the environment and characters active there are ‘events’ at regular basis in
Luceti and most other blog-based role-plays. Here the events are frequently linked to
experiments that the Malnosso conduct on the villagers. When all of the sudden all the
characters have their worst character trait enhanced, have their wings resized or get
kidnapped, the Malnosso are surely behind it trying to test something. But what that could be
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and how it adds up to the main plot is something all the players have to find out together.
Defeating that kind of an enemy takes a lot of collaborative skills. Luckily aside from wings
you also get a journal. That is where all the action and interaction take place. For the player
himself there is nothing visual in Luceti aside from LiveJournal’s profile icons: 15 images of
the character a player makes himself or gets from LiveJournal fan communities.
The story world is thus mostly an envisioned one. There are no images of what it looks
like or what it is. The settings are explained textually, based on a generic map and information
about the town. There are various shops and houses, a forest, a desert, tunnels. These can be
of use during events or characters can choose to visit them together. Outside of the barrier
there are a lot of mysteries, but the characters cannot go through it. As a textual environment
Luceti is something different for everyone. The story world is read by each player through his
personal experience there, his actual life and the image he has of the source-texts. In this pop-
cultural bricolage a character can bump into all sorts of characters, texts and stories. At the
main community of Luceti there is a bit of information about the plot, timeline and a map, but
most things have to be experienced through playing and conversing. The character has no clue
where he or she winded up and why, that is something the writer will have to deal with by
being inquisitive.
Using LiveJournal to stage stories

After this description you may wonder how the role-play works in practice then. I shall depict
this from the starting point, a player’s application, to the actual practice. First a player applies
with a character that is not yet in the role-play by checking the residents list. Perhaps he has
doubts about who to role-play and checks the requested characters first, in which players from
certain source-texts request others from the same fandom. Maybe there are characters in the
list that a new player is familiar with and thinks he could do justice. Before the application to
a role-play a player should have first done his homework: read all the rules, checked the plot
and features (e.g., a player should be aware that there are various wing colours and that he can
choose one) and importantly, he should be aware of the character he is about to perform.
I should add that all players at Luceti should be considered as fans that have an
emotional connection to certain pop-cultural texts, the fandoms surrounding them and the type
of friends they have made in those communities. Multi-fandom communities as Luceti are
highly embedded in fan communities surrounding American and Japanese popular culture.
Role-playing assumes you are engaged with those, even if you apply with a character of your
own or of a rather obscure series. Those unfamiliar with the texts, values and communities
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that circulate online would hardly be able to make sense of this. For more general role-playing
with original characters other platforms are a wiser choice, since LiveJournal is used mostly
for fan role-plays. During some explorative browsing through the various role-playing
communities at LiveJournal, I had to conclude that, though some role-plays only referred to
one fandom, the standard were role-plays relating to various fandoms. General settings that
excluded fandoms or fandom as a term were absent. This shows how much fan role-playing is
embedded in this blog system.
When staging a character from an existing source-text it is very important to be well-
informed. Even if a player has recently consumed the source-text, it could be important to
reread it with specific attention to how the character behaves. These analyses are crucial here,
even more than in fanfiction because a player communicates a lot through brief messages and
cannot elaborate via descriptions or inner-thoughts easily, like in prose. It is essential that the
sentences, dialogues and attitude really befit a character. Furthermore, because a role-player is
often caught with different responses from fellow-players than anticipated, he is sometimes
forced to creatively rethink what a character can say or do. Then measuring this interaction
with similar situations in the source-text can be helpful. Deducing how a character is and live
up to that can be difficult. Analyzing the source-text and rereading it again – by role-players
often described as a canon review - is a first step to commitment to the character. This is why
the application also explicitly states the following under the header personality: ‘Please
consider here things such as habits, likes and dislikes, thought patterns, experiences and so
on’ (Luceti application, 2009). The section is divided in terms of strengths and weaknesses
with the note that a player should address these physically, mentally and emotionally. This is
followed by a request to include examples from the series.
After a player has decently applied with a character he can join. That means that
firstly, you make an account for your character under a LiveJournal name that befits him,
instead of a random one or a variation of your own nickname. For example, the smart teacher
from Tales of Symphonia, Raine, role-plays as Wise_Maiden while Emil is called
Ratatosk_Knight referring to his title in Dawn of the New World. Once a character has an
appropriate username and journal lay-out, a player adds the communities from Luceti (where
moderators post updates about the role-play) and all the characters to his friends page. This is
necessary so a player gets all the updates in his friends page and can communicate with other
players.
Then it becomes important to think about icons. A player can get 15 icons unless he
gets a paid account, then he gets additional icons each month. Some players take this
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subscribing into consideration if they enjoy playing a character. These icons should represent
various facial expressions of a character to suit the role-play. It helps to have a smiling one, a
shocked one, an angry one and so forth. For some occasions role-players might swap a few of
the icons and put their old ones back after a few days. Being the only visual device in the role-
play the icons contribute to how a character is acted out so role-players give the choice of
icons quite some thought, track down screenshots and existing icons, adapt pictures and
upload those.
Finally, a player makes his first post with an introduction and the message that
everyone should add his character to their list. After all of those practicalities are dealt with, a
player is allowed to make his first in character post. The community operates through friends
pages of LiveJournal, so it is important that participants keep track of those that stop role-
playing or join. This system, rather than opting for a LiveJournal community system, has as a
benefit that all characters have their own blog where the interaction takes place. It is also
easier because the moderators use the community features for other things such as application
posts, character reserves (if a character is already played but you want it when the other player
stops) and general topics featuring the plot, guide lines and rules.
The friends page of LiveJournal is where the actual interaction takes place. By
checking only this list rather than one community it is also easy to see the main communities
and important posts therein, aside from the other character’s blogs. Next to the general
community run by the moderators, there is also an out of character community (Lucetiooc,
2009) where a new player can introduce himself or alert others when he is on a break with
role-playing. Aside from these two communities one can interact in character at the log
community (Lucetilogs, 2009) in third-person, notably for actions that require much
description rather than dialogues and interaction. Lastly one can access the fan community
(Lucetifans, 2009) for meta-discussions and art based on Luceti, both important though
slightly secondary features, notably the log community will be addressed later.
The interaction itself is also a very specific practice. Let me go into a few of its
features. Firstly, the interaction takes place as a dialogue between two characters and usually
not more. Out of character you can see all the replies characters have already made to each
other and maybe some are more interesting than the blog itself. However, mingling in other
people’s conversations is in most cases forbidden, since the journal function in Luceti works
more like text messaging from one character to the other. Some posts may be overheard by
others because characters (not the players) can talk through the journal, but even then it is
slightly uncommon to respond to a comment rather than to the first entry of the blog. The
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point here is that the interface of Luceti is imagined through magical journals and characters
are actually unable to see each other’s textual comments. There are however loopholes in the
role-play, for instance, very smart characters can hack journals of others. Also, a character
does not have to behave to naive, it is assumed that they also live in the village and
communicate outside of the journals as well and are familiar with the latest news and
rumours.
Furthermore, the character’s interaction relies on the performance of its player.
LiveJournal blogs are highly topological, depending on the time and fictive place where one is
writing. The meaning of a work and the interaction are based on how often and when a player
posts. A player needs to be highly aware of this, certainly in a role-play community, where the
main readers are his fellow-players. One needs to adjust his time schedule to that of others.
Especially differences between time zones (e.g., European and North American) make this
difficult. Still, it becomes apparent from the role-play communities that those that stick
together are not from similar time-zones., though it would seem practical. Apparently their
interaction is based on other criteria, for instance what characters seem likely to befriend each
other. Adapting to others and being flexible becomes important then, to a degree that some
might role-play at work or during other chores simply because their fellow-players are online
then. Not checking the community frequently assures that a player misses out on interaction,
has a hard time tracking conversations or cannot keep up with the current events.
If in daily life a role-player encounters certain problems or is gone for a weekend, he
needs to state this, since this will affect his character. This is called a hiatus and it may be
because the player is sick, needs to ace exams, has a holiday or has a lot of work at his job.
Most fictional blogs, aside from role-play blogs, need to state this because readers depend on
the updates (Friedrich, 2007, p. 38-39). In Luceti this is dealt with very specifically. A player
can allow his character to be kidnapped in the game. The Malnosso then run experiments on
him, which may or may not show off depending on the player’s choices. Ergo, it is often very
convincing if a hiatus is solved in the game as well. Luceti offers options in this, but not all
role-plays do: in that case a player has to make it clear in character and out of character that
he will be gone for some time. All of this aims to stage a credible story world without
practical issues. If social matters are in the way, the player needs to solve these fictionally too.
Similarly the leaving of characters has to be explained in the game as well. Out of
character a player may think he has lost connection with a character at Luceti or lost the
motivation to role-play altogether. In the game the player’s characters get send back to their
home worlds again but how that works is something that should still be explained through the
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main plot. No one is actually sure of what happened to them. More awkward, sometimes
characters come back from another point of the timeline. In actual life this is because the role-
player that played a character dropped out and the character became available again for other
fans that wanted to play him or her. Within Luceti other characters may notice this and
discuss it, note the dialogue at the first image in the appendix (image A). The characters
speculate why it is that characters leave and return without a recollection of ever having been
in Luceti. Naturally characters being ‘sent back home’ is a convenient argument to explain
that characters leave, but in terms of plot all of this needs to be negotiated, much like the short
hiatus mentioned before.
In these cases it also helps to be in touch with some of your fellow-players through
your personal LiveJournal, Aim or MSN messenger. They can brief you if something
happened in the game, since summarizes of the main events, happenings or updates of the plot
are rare. For the convenience of some, certain characters may choose to summarize great
events or plot twists that involved many characters since they cost so much time to read. For
those that had a small hiatus or are less involved with events, it becomes difficult to see the
plot development of the general Luceti storyline and Malnosso. Characters that are friendly,
social, involved with the community and bright sometimes aid by making a separate thread
stating all the facts in pointers. This is how some practical issues of having a large plot with
many writer-players are tackled, because being involved in such a large collaborative project
can sometimes be problematic.
Another important element of LiveJournal role-plays or other fictional blogs is that the
interface is usually made very explicit. As Betsy Friedrich (2007) writes in her thesis on
blogs: ‘Blogs are also usually fictional objects through their self-referentially. Authors
frequently give their characters a reason to be blogging, the blog does not exist randomly’.
This dimension is indeed apparent in many of these LiveJournal communities where the
characters have an actual journal to communicate through. The blog function needs to be
explained: otherwise the written comments and posts as a medium would make no sense. I
can imagine that in some communities the posts are imagined as actual face to face dialogues,
but during a preliminary search on LiveJournal I found none of these.
In Luceti all the characters are equipped with a journal when they first arrive. The
Luceti FAQ (2008) describes this as follows: ‘It’s basically like a written live journal. A little
picture, like your icon, will show up next to your comments on other’s entries. This way,
others can see how your character is reacting to something. They can see a smile, a wave, or a
look of disgust. Also, the journal is magic, so it can imprint your voice, if you tell it to.’ A
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player can write in this journal, which is the normal mode of communicating or choose to
record voice posts by adding ‘/voice’ as an indication in the title of the entry or comment.
Because Luceti is also a story world where characters live, players may want to have
real interaction without the blog. Since it is a blog-based RPG, however, this has to be
mediated via LiveJournal as well. Characters can talk face to face in Luceti via action posts,
that use an ‘/action’ tag in the title (see picture above). Then the self-referential level is
undermined and substituted by the blog as a virtual representation for actual communication.
This second level of using the blog allows a player to write down posts that assume both
characters are near each other and actually talking and doing things. Descriptions of how the
characters respond to each other’s presence are added then or how they perform actions
together. Using the blog as face to face communication can sometimes seep through other
conversations as well. For instance by small descriptive comments role-players make to
describe a characters feelings, or by out of character posts stating something personal.
Blogs are a very specific medium. Due to their interaction and multimedial aspects
they cannot easily be printed (Friedrich, 2007, p. 22). Role-playing communities that rely on
heavy interaction on the blog cannot be printed because they are not sequential at all. The
story at these communities is fragmentary, a-chronological and takes place at many blogs.
Many conversations occur at the same time and while new threads are made non-stop, some
interaction may run for days in one older thread. LiveJournal cannot depict many comments at
once so a user has to click frequently to see more comments at longer threads. This can be
quite impractical for readers since each comment is also put slightly to the right (note the
images in the appendix) which results in comments going off-screen at some point.
From all of this it appears that role-players make very creative use of LiveJournal’s
generic features to stage a large story world. Other options of LiveJournal are also
alternatively applied in the role-play. For instance, there is a feature to add tags at the bottom
of your post. Role-players add witty descriptions here and update the tags by adding those
they have conversed with. The titles are used in a similar fashion. They state for instance
whether the post is a voice post or action post (if it says nothing it is simply written and
mediated through the journal by writing). However, the comments below also have similar
titles, sometimes featuring these tags. Usually they are left blank, because it is assumed the
dialogue continues in the same fashion as the earlier posts. Then role-players may add jokes
as a title such as depicted at image B, when the authors use the text box to refer to typos.
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Making conversation: Writing and style in role-plays
You have just applied with your character and made an introductory post. Some of the
villagers might approach you and pass the Luceti guide containing the basic information a
character needs to manage there. Maybe someone will even tour you around. It is time to start
interacting on one of the various blogs that are uploaded a day or on your own. You notice
that it takes some genuine effort in the beginning. You start to wonder: How do you write a
character at best? In what ways does this differ from what I have written before? Is role-
playing like other textual fiction or not? In this section I shall touch upon various authorial
features of role-playing: the narration, the style and the criticism.
A story with so many authors is difficult to categorize or capture in existing terms
such as co-authorship. Like other online games Luceti is inhabited by many characters that all
interact in this town (259 players, counted 17 June 2009). In terms of writing a practice as
role-playing is hardly the same as staging a more conventional story with one or several
authors. These games feature all the unities a narrative is supposed to have: a plot, characters
and a setting. What it lacks is a main point of view or narrator. Each player forms his own
perspective of the story and selectively reads threads. Luceti is not the same for everyone,
which also makes this problematic to analyze as a scholar who reads more than a general
player would and does not participate in the role-play himself. The numerous voices and lack
of a main perspective are the main difference between these role-plays and regular stories.
However, that there is not one perspective but many does not mean a role-play lacks
the clear perspective that we know from existing narratives. When analyzing the texts at
Luceti it becomes clear they rely distinctively on narration. The experience however differs
per character. The community as such is constructed out of stories told in character blogs:
each of these gives a different account of the story world with new interaction and events. It
would however be too easy to say that these blogs and their comments are strictly written in
first-person. In fact, the author and character often heavily overlap in terms of narration in a
role-play. The perspective here is in a strange mixture between performances of the character
and the broader knowledge of a player. Importantly a player might add things in terms of tags,
titles or little descriptions which cannot be equated with the character but are in fact out of
character. These can be written in a third-person fashion to elaborate on a character or as
remarks that clearly address the other player. The writing can become very hybrid by this. See
for instance image C, the start of a conversation, where the descriptions add an ironical
element
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The third-person descriptions in role-playing are in general brief and placed between
brackets. In some cases they become longer, notably when a character cannot talk, when
something emotional is happening or when the action post requires much description. This
can result in a very prose-like third-person style. Let me illustrate via another conversation of
a long thread of similar posts (see image D). Here the posting almost becomes prose because
one character cannot talk and the other tries to make effort. The writing thus becomes very
descriptive and the whole thread starts to read as a novel. Sentences as: ‘There might be a
softness in Raine’s gaze as she debates the blanket situation’ are prosaic and subjective,
depicting her inner thoughts. This kind of writing in a role-play has little difference with
regular fanfiction in terms of style.
Aside from these descriptions in tags that are embedded in first-person interaction, the
community has a specific log-community. Logging aims to describe an event between two or
several characters at fullest. Here everything is written in third-person. The narration is purely
prosaic with dialogues that are interwoven in the narrative (see image E). This point of view
makes logging rhetorically different from action posts that embed brackets and a small font
size for the more descriptive parts on occasions. Note the first lines of this log (Lucetilogs,
2009): ‘Scorching desert air whipped across his face as Kratos flew towards the ruins. He'd
never flown such a long distance ever since he came to this world; he had forgotten what a
rush it was to fly with only the mana on his back to support him. It was one of the only things
he liked about being an angel’.
Some communities feature logs in first-person: these are often the ones that do not
have action post abilities and use the logs for that. The decision to use either action posts or
logs is at Luceti a rather personal one (also discussed by members at Luceti OOC community,
2009). A log has the benefit that it allows a player to reflect on the inner-thoughts of a
character because it is fully third-person. The text can be as descriptive and long as you want
it to be, in contrast to regular blog conversations. Action posts are conducted quicker and
more direct, which is why some players prefer these. Logging consumes a lot of time and a
player always has to wait for the co-author, which is also why logs are usually conducted with
only two or three people. Though logs hypothetically can tell large stories co-authored by
several players, in practice a player has to wait too long and looses his motivation.
Writing a log can be compared to traditional types of collaborative writing in which
both authors in turn take one point of view. We have seen examples of this in regular
fanfiction last chapter; I would argue that the log-function in style is similar to fanfiction.
Interestingly it also features similar pointers and credits as fanfiction: stating the characters or
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pairing it; a summary and even an age rating. A disclaimer is not added in Luceti, which is
deemed unnecessary in a roleplaying game. Still one has to wonder why in fanfiction this is so
heavily underlined and why role-players hardly seem to wonder about legalities. The writing
practice is after all nearly the same, though it seems these games have more liberty in the eyes
of the actors.
Perhaps this is also because author does not matter in role-playing as much as in
fanfiction, which is more related to conventional authorship and stories that could have been
printed. What is important in a role-play is a character posing as an author under whose
nickname everything is published. It is already assumed that everyone knows this is a fictional
product based on other texts that can be found in the profile. That is not to say that role-
players never get charged. Caddell (2009) describes how a few Mad Men role-players at
Twitter were banned by the studio, but ended up working together with the creators to
promote the series. I addressed similar cases in chapter 2 regarding fanfiction and fan
websites: eventually companies realize fan activity is a benefit for them.
In terms of style the conversations at a regular role-play community are very
dependent on the character. The personality of the character in the source-text and the
performance of the role-player are linked. It is essential to write and interact like a character
would in the actual text. A shy character will not approach others that much and talk briefly
and softly. Here a smaller font size can at times be used then to emphasize this intonation.
Similarly an arrogant character will not approach others either and might react stern or bossy.
Social characters will respond to a lot of blogs.
Sometimes a character proves to be unsuitable for role-playing. Corinne Lamerichs
explained in an interview that she had a lot of fun role-playing emperor Kuzco from The
Emperor’s New Groove. However, as an obnoxious and arrogant emperor he would never
interact with others because he deems them as unworthy. Because others had to approach him
the interaction got limited. Socially a player depends on his character. It is not an option to
stretch him too much unless progress is made in Luceti through various events which takes a
lot of time and does not suit all characters.
Occasionally the mode of typing will reflect the way characters talk in a source-text.
Luceti for instance has a Tia Dalma from Pirates of the Carribean that converses like this: Is
dere something wrong wit' de river? (Andallaretrue, 25 May, 2009). Playing with
pronunciation and text like this represents a more accurate image of the character rather than
typing it out normally. A writing style in the role-play has to befit a character’s traits. Most
important here is staying in character both in written style, in terms of behaviour and in terms
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of plot/choices. If a fan role-player is criticized it will often be on these grounds. Like in

fanfiction being in character is a core value. As the Luceti application (2008) states: ‘we want
to know that you can really get into this character's head, that you can identify what motivates
them as if they were real people. We want to see that you have put a lot of thought into this,
and that you really have a desire to do this character justice. In the same breath, please try to
have fun with this part! You finally get to talk someone's ear off about a character you want to
play; take advantage of it!’
Furthermore, when making conversation it is important to leave openings for your
fellow-players. A player’s posts have to be slightly open so that others can raise questions or
broaden on the narrative. Making decisions for other players is strictly forbidden and
described as Godmodding because you ‘play God’ by disabling the other player’s reaction
(e.g., Luceti rules, 2009). More positively a player can have the best interaction when leaving
gaps and stimulating the interaction. This was also brought to my attention by role-player
Wendelien Meijer (personal contact) who had bad experiences with players that immediately
closed her off by never adding new information to their writing.
Other points of critique in role-playing are more concerned with the general activity of
a user: frequently being online and sociable towards other characters really helps. The players
that interact with a wide range of characters appear to get the most comments, because they
are very visible and have a lot of acquaintances in Luceti that will respond. The more a player
invests in a character and the more plausible he does this, the more he will be recognized as a
good role-player. Naturally some fans will not pay that much attention to how the character is
portrayed, because they are happy the character is in Luceti at all. Characters that are popular
in real life do not necessarily seem to draw more attention though. This is also because
players in these games easily group together online and offline in terms of fandom, how long
they have been at Luceti and in terms of quality. Because players drop out of role-plays pretty
fast and have the tendency to put characters on a hold for some time, users of the game are
also a bit alert when interacting. Role-playing practices are valued based on the quality and
quantity of the interaction and the representation of the source-text. Writing as such is judged
on those grounds rather than inventive exploration of the story world, originality or the plot
movements in the community itself. The main plot after all is the one that the moderators
establish and that the characters try to explore.
To check if they are role-playing well, players usually have a general evaluation post
at their LiveJournal (concrit post) where others can evaluate them. These mainly state if
readers/players like the portrayal of the character and if something should be different.
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Critique is thus equated with the value of doing justice to a character: in terms of balancing
between the source-text and the game, transforming the fiction, everything should be just
alright, but the performativity is important too. Socializing enough and with the right
characters is crucial to role-playing. In contrast to fanfiction, reviews hardly ever address
grammar, and in general the linguistic level of the participants is far higher. Perhaps this is
also necessary if one wants to comment rapidly on other people’s blogs. In fanfiction, we saw
in the previous chapter, readers hardly ever interfere with the plot or give suggestions of
where a story should head. An author does not care much for these suggestions either, unless
he specifically asks for input, which often happens only in those fanfics that stimulate
audience participation because it is part of the concept. In role-playing you rely on your
fellow-players and often are in contact with some of these. You might show them a post in a
chat before actually posting it. Note for instance this fragment of an interview with role-player
and fanfiction author Corinne Lamerichs (Meowzy-chan).
CL: [about fanfiction] We used to have some readers that inquired about the plot,
but not anymore.
NL: That does not happen.
CL: No, but with role-playing it does.
NL: I guess that is different because you have to consult since you are in a group.
CL: Even if you have nothing to with them, they will ask for critique.
NL: That is interesting!
CL: They will say: ‘Think it is IC if Raine would do this or that once?’ and I say
‘yes’ or ‘no’.
NL: And are these people from the Tales fandom then?
CL: Yes.
Gaining a reputation as a specifically good role-player is more difficult. A player might be
recognized by peers as highly capable, but as we have seen this always depends on more than
just the quality of the writing. Role-playing is heavily related to the community, cannot be
published or read outside of that platform. Participants do not perceive themselves as authors
but as players. Sure, one’s skills increase during role-playing: the practice stimulates the
active imagination and engagement with fiction and characters. Much like fanfiction it will
also increase the linguistic capabilities of its participants. Those that are not of a high level yet
can reach it through peer evaluation, trying out different characters and learning by doing.
However, as a genre it cannot grow outside the communities. It is limited collaborative fiction
meant for entertainment of its own audience. Some random readers may stumble upon role-
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plays or track a certain character, but in general role-plays attract only other role-players.
Those that are considered good role-players only have that reputation there, and if they want
to write for a larger audience, they would have to choose another genre of fiction to
accomplish this.
Performing characters: The live audience, gestures and the mise-en-scene

Blogs at Luceti are thus all about performing a character adequately and certain values are
attached to this. We have seen that a writer has to stay true to a character in various aspects
and can creatively use his blog to explore a character even more through icons, tags and titles.
Performative authorship becomes a kind of acting here that has a theatrical dimension. While
we looked at the writing practice of role-plays, the commonalities between a role-play and a
performance still need to be defined properly. In this section we will see how the relation
between an audience and the narrator can be described in a role-play.
By Janet Murray (1997) MUD’s and other role-plays have been defined as a spectacle,
a theatrical concept hinting at the relation between performance and writing: ‘Spectacle is
used to create exultation, to move us into another order of perception, and to fix us in the
moment’ (p. 112). Through this play the audience becomes immersed in the story. Digital
environments try to stimulate immersion through participation, which increases the attention
and the sensational experience of the audience (id.). The goal is then to make the immersion
in the virtual/story world last as long as possible. The process is performative not only in its
acts but also in its protagonists: the masks and costumes from the history of theatre here
become virtual avatars, playable characters or graphical figures (id., p. 113). The ideas
Murray touches upon suit this case-study when going into the performative elements of role-
playing. This performativity can be seen at various levels in the writing: the immediate, live
audience; the gestures and body; the importance of place (or stage).
Firstly, performative authorship in role-playing is bound by time when making
conversation with one’s fellow-players. The blogs are highly temporal: reading and writing
lack the gap that they have in print-culture and the audience is allowed to respond. As such
blogs become more immediate. Following a blog or engaging in a role-playing community
means experiencing and reacting to what is going on at the moment. In that sense role-playing
blogs feature a live audience. If you read a fictional blog later to catch up the experience of
the text will differ and there is no need to respond anymore, meaning that the dimension of
active reading gets lost. ‘What this means for the writer is that blogging becomes something
closer to performance art like theatre or dance’ (Friedrich, 2007, p. 41). The distance between
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reader-writer is limited in a role-play where players respond to players nonstop. Francesca
Coppa (2007) classifies this element of acting in front of a live audience as performative or
theatrical as well, but relates it mostly to regular fanfiction (pp. 238-243). However, a
different kind of relationship is established in a role-play compared to fanfiction, where a
reader can still reply to fiction published years ago. Whereas FanFiction.net relies on a kind of
active audience of writers that reply at any time and give feedback, Luceti relies on immediate
activity of its residents. The live audience becomes more direct here.
Because the blogs and their replies are time-bounded a role-player has to improvise.
Much like in performance art the audience (here, players) will respond in unexpected ways
and a storyteller is forced to adapt to the situation. Like an actor who stands in front of an
unfamiliar crowd, role-players have to improvise when interacting with characters they have
not met yet. The player may make certain mistakes because of the spontaneity of the
interaction in terms of grammar or plotting, but that is inevitable. Perhaps the flaws in role-
playing even make it more authentic since a character that writes in a blog can also make
mistakes at times. In a large story world as Luceti both character and author have to interact,
plan and improvise to establish social connections.
The interaction has a specific performative dimension, but it is hard to depict that at
best. Luceti hovers between conversation – regular, spontaneous talk which incorporates
gestures - and dialogue, written and preplanned texts (for this division see also Friedrich,
2007, pp. 46-55). To an outsider a textual role-play might account for dialogue, since it is
written and revised. Nonetheless I would argue that it is also similar to conversation, since it
has a clear performative dimension featuring improvisation, time-bounded features, gestures
and enactment, which are elements of conversation. However, how can interaction that is in
essence without a body feature gestures that underline the performative dimension of role-
playing?
At first hand it seems a role-play incorporates textual indications of the body or
gestures rather than actual gestures. These signs can be seen as something similar to gestures,
as text that is imagined to be a character expressing himself. For instance, Tronstad (2004)
emphasizes that MUD’s are based on mere text that is misread on purpose, again underlining
the symbolism that is at stake in a role-play. Performativity depends on make-belief here: ‘I
know that there are real persons behind the characters, but I also know that unless I have met
these people in real life, my interaction with them is more theatrical than real. I imagine them’
(p. 1). Through textual indications a character is envisioned. The constituted story world is
fictional and virtual, differently read and imagined by everyone. Descriptions depict
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expressions and behaviour, ergo, add a performative dimension to storytelling (see also image
D) that helps establish the characters.
However, what a player envisions in a fan role-play also relies heavily on text outside
the role-play: the source-texts the characters are based on. The source-text provides a kind of
additional idea of the story aside from the role-play. Some of the characters in a role-play may
be unfamiliar to a player because he has not read the source-text. He will experience and read
a character differently, based mostly on the role-play. Nonetheless, even a player unfamiliar
with the text interprets a character via icons that belong to the source-text. Francesca Coppa
(2007) righteously links the performativity to the body of the characters. The characters are
used as actors, moulds, for an imaginary theatre for fans. A fandom role-play bases itself the
bodies of media characters; in book fandoms this might differ. In Luceti book-related
protagonists are given life through cast-by’s: the body of an actual actor or model is casted as
the character. This idea of casting media characters can be related to role-playing very well:
the fanfiction author becomes a director as well that makes actors perform and is concerned
with the overview. At the same time he is like an actor that becomes the character.
A quick look at a LiveJournal role-play shows that we are not dealing with merely
textual relations. The body of the character is not just an envisioned by textual references to
the source-text. Next to descriptions and tags a player has an interface with icons that
contribute to the story-telling. Selecting icons in a role-play is very important since they have
to reflect many states of mind of a character and a regular player only has fifteen he can use.
The process of making and selecting icons is done very careful and when icons are used well,
they can severely change the way text is read. As primary visual content these icons are
chosen deliberately to represent certain gestures or attitudes. Like a storyteller makes use of
his hands or facial expressions to underline a story, a role-player uses icons to represent the
narrating character. Note for instance image B where the first role-player used an overly
serious icon depicting authority and strictness in a contemplative, secure pose. Compare that
with her reaction which is slightly arrogant, her hand movement and the eyebrows.
Making use of icons creatively is very important since it can assure a pacing in the
interaction and different reactions. For instance, at some points characters may only post an
icon rather than text to show a certain reaction. A role-player for instance can make a post of
three or more comments in a row so he can switch icons to depict different gestures or moods.
Note for instance image F and the continuation of the conversation in image B. Here the male
character is represented through three comments to depict different gestures, which are
followed up nicely by female character Azula who has two icons from a similar frame
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depicting a different reaction. Posting in a row is not a taboo here since it can reflect the
attitude of a character better. The icons can then form a kind of animation due to the use of
similar frames in which the expression of a character changes.
The performative author also relies on place, be it virtual or actual. When adopting a
role and behaving in a certain way, the place is similar to the stage that affects the performer.
For fans these practices are not just associated with one place, such as LiveJournal, but
dispersed over various virtual and actual places that are related to a fandom or text (see also
Sandvoss, 2005, pp. 44-67; Hills, 2001, pp. 144-158). Aside from the actual platforms that
one associates with the role-play, a source-text and the fandom, the fictional setting matters.
This is the place that a player imagines for the story. Note how Luceti is constructed as a
specific village in which all of the players live. The characters tell and perform, but the setting
provides a background that is necessary for envisioning the actions. The setting is virtual in
two ways: it makes use of a platform which is coded (LiveJournal, the first level) and embeds
a story world in that system (second level).
Though role-playing is performed in a mediated, virtual space, a player takes daily life
into account as well, by linking out of character statements to in character behaviour. For
instance, if a player knows the other player will not be online for some time, there will be no
action in the story world. The virtual and actual are entwined here. Role-players consult each
other, keep track of each other’s situation through various platforms, interact when it is
possible and rely on each other socially. What matters when analyzing a role-play is the way
these platforms touch upon each other and how a story is staged through various platforms
and texts, rather than one community.
Between gaming and writing

To summarize role-playing is a specific kind of writing that is not just transformative or
original: it is best described as performative authorship. The practice aims to act out a text and
stage a story in which each player can take part. The case-study shows that electronic
platforms as LiveJournal can be creatively used for new ways to write and co-author stories.
As Janet Murray (1997) remarks: ‘The computer is providing us with a new stage for the
creation of participatory theatre. We are gradually learning to do what actors do, to enact
emotionally authentic experiences that we know are not ‘real’ (p. 125). Role-plays succeed in
creating large collaborative projects written by and for many fans. The players get into an
existing character’s mind set and flesh him out through dialogue and description. This make-
belief or symbolism, imagined through text, shapes the role-play.
114
A role-play is distinctive by enabling a writerly discourse in which the author is in fact

absent. When players refer to themselves they use terms as player or ‘mun’, hardly ever will
any of them describe this practice as writing or define himself as a writer or author. In general
role-plays are viewed as games mediated through text. Writing abilities, skills and narration
are deemed important nonetheless, which depicts an authorial awareness though the actors
might not describe it as such. The values attached to writing are slightly different from
fanfiction as prose or scripts where the author has more input and at points is viewed as an
actual writer with the attached cultural connotations. Therefore ownership is a more important
discourse when dealing with regular fanfiction than role-plays. Nonetheless there is a sense of
emotional ownership in role-plays especially if one is attached to the character he performs or
has played a long time. The players themselves see the role-play as an entertaining activity
with an emphasis on the social aspects, though in practice it is also a type of writing that
requires typical imaginative and textual skills.
How freely an author can write a character in a role-play is a different matter, just as
how much input he can have on the story. Though role-plays are very open at some points,
they can also be a restriction because the emphasis on being in character is that high.
Furthermore they are restrictive in terms of plot: Luceti has a main story line, but it advances
slowly, which creates a game that depends more on events and interaction than on the main
narrative. The potential and wish to create a large participatory story is there, but the progress
is slow and regulated by the moderators.
Interestingly the author is not only absent when players talk about the activity but also
in the practice itself. A character is documented in a role-play: he is preserved in these
fictional blogs, not the author who is harder to locate. The author here is a double: both a
character in the narrative and a narrator at the same time. Last chapter we have seen that
fanfiction personalizes characters and stories through the use of self-insertions, crossovers
(with other texts or with daily life) and Mary Sues. In a role-play daily life mingles with
fiction through the use of the blog system and characters going online. The characters are
personalized and the author is rendered absent rather than present. Importantly, in the
fanfiction surrounding Tales of Symphonia, it is often the other way around when the fan-
author enters as a protagonist in the story world (see chapter 3). The use of systems as
LiveJournal can thus establish a very different, though just as personal, author-character
relationship when compared to regular fanfiction.
115
116
Chapter 5
Submitting and sharing: Undermining the author?
In this research I tried to depict the authorial practices within fanfiction and show how notions
of authorship influence the text and its writers. The thesis addressed this via the overarching
question: How does fanfiction redefine what authorship means in our modern society? The
role of the author in fanfiction seems to be a specific construction when compared to original
fiction or other fields of writing. In this conclusion I shall answer the research question
briefly. Firstly I shall focus on the specific transformative and performative practices of fan-
authors and depict their overlap. Secondly I shall discuss the identity of the fan-author and
how his practices construct an alternative idea of authorship.
I analyzed fanfiction as a transformative practice to show how authors each give their
own spin to an existing narrative. Transformative as a concept applies to all fan practices in
which fans derive new texts or practices from existing ones. This proved to be a helpful
concept to explore one of the specific problems of fan writing. Fans hover between existing
material and the wish to add something original or personal to that story world without
disrupting it with their touch. This paradox becomes apparent many times when fans reflect
on their own work. On the one hand fans express the wish to stay true to the source-text and
reject certain fallacies (e.g., Mary Sues); on the other hand it is important for them to find
their own voice or style and add something to the plot or the characters.
Transformative authorship becomes a more problematic concept when we are dealing
with transmedia storytelling: stories that are told across various platforms and texts. Here the
source-text is already transformative to some degree in a sense that various production teams
make their own adaptations or plenary stories. In the case-study the transmedial elements of
the source-text posed less of a problem than I had presumed. This was mostly because the
videogame was still the dominant text on which the franchise and plenary texts were based. I
can envision that a case-study on a transmedial text with several primary texts would have had
a different outcome, since each new text then provides a new narrative or subplot rather than
additional background information. It should also be taken into account that the case-study I
dealt with was Japanese and that some texts are only available in Japan or for fans that know
where to look online, which excludes parts of the Western fandom.
As for the performative dimension of fanfiction, this becomes very apparent in role-
playing. Here a player relies on the source-text to make an adequate portrayal of his character.
117
The performance is not just plain textual but also incorporates visual elements such as fonts
sizes, icons and the LiveJournal lay-out. In the case-study various features of LiveJournal are
included to add to the realism of the story world and character. All players contribute to the
story though the moderators assure the main plot. Though co-authorship can be established in
regular fanfiction, it is less common and often the influence of the readers is limited to
reviews and beta reading with minor suggestions.
Performative and transformative elements can be found in all fanfiction and the
discourses surrounding it. Fanfiction is much like role-playing with its emphasis of staying
true to characters and writing them as fitting as one can. Indeed the concepts ‘in character’
and ‘out of character’, which are actually related to role-playing, are here used as ways to
criticize fanfiction in general and depict fallacies in various fan texts. Importantly, fanfiction
comes in all kinds of formats and stories that touch upon each other. With its emphasis on
dialogues the text in role-playing has much in common with fanfiction in the form of scripts.
Fanfiction written as prose resembles third-person logs in role-playing. Stories with
thumbnails hosted at personal sites look like a role-play, but are only written by one author.
The genres, formats and values of written fanfiction relate to each other, but are still
not quite the same. During this research I focused specifically on fanfiction and role-playing,
but these practices are part of a wide range of fan activities in which certain conventions and
values are created. Though it was necessary for my analysis of authorship to distinguish
between practices, there were also close resemblances at points. Still, viewing all of these
texts as merely fanfiction - one genre - causes analytical problems. Chapter 4 for instance
made clear that role-playing is a very specific practice mediated through text (in this case
blogs) that involves more play and collaboration.
Performative and transformative writing are not limited to fanfiction but are practices
that can be found in all forms of fiction. Even original fiction is slightly transformative in a
sense that writers rely on conventions and existing texts that they are familiar with when
staging their own text. No text can really be constructed from scratch. Elements of the
performative in fanfiction can also be found in original fiction, for instance consistency in
characterization and emotional realism are also important when creating a new story. The
difference is that a writer has developed these characters himself and that certain authorial
practices for fans (e.g., rereading a source-text; interpreting a character) are only a minor
problem here. Essential in this research is the understanding that fans are not just writers in
fanfiction, but also readers and interpreters of a source-text. At points these roles conflict
because certain prevalent opinions regarding a series exclude others.
118
Throughout this research I wondered how the author was positioned in this derivative
fiction. He seemingly disappears from the discourse as a genius, someone who creates
original, expressive art. Fan-authors themselves hardly fit into the print-cultural paradigm of
authorship which emphasizes the single individual writer. This seems to stage a subversive,
self-aware type of amateur fiction, but this is not true in all senses. The paradigm of print-
culture and the individual author is still active here when fans refer to authorship and
underline the author behind the source-text. The actual author for them is frequently the
person or team who established the original text and to whom they pay homage with their
own texts. In general they do not perceive themselves as actual authors because they work
with material that does not belong to them. Their text is linked to an existing one; therefore
they can never have the entire credit or feel like they are authors in a true sense of the word.
The authors of the source-text own their material in all ways and have the ultimate say about
the characters.
By contrast the fans feel they only own part of a text and experience their writing
sometimes as slightly illegal. They are fan-authors who often emphasize their identity as a fan
rather than their identity as a writer. Online this can be seen in the fashioning of their profiles,
their author’s notes and nicknames. Fans want to show they are part of a fan community. This
is also how their fiction should be read. Fanfiction as such is selective and exists out of genres
that each draw a specific audience. Fans will also be tempted to read fiction that is much like
their own or which confirms their ideas of a certain series. The readers here know the material
and browse the internet looking for specific stories. These writers are part of the fan
community surrounding an existing text and cannot be equated with other writing practices.
Fans read and write for other fans and this creates a selective circulation of the text. Most of
them do not consider their practice unusual, though it becomes clear from fan’s discussions
about their fiction that they want to grow and become better at it. Though they are self-aware
and take writing very serious, they do not fashion themselves as authors.
In terms of writing this is not to say that fanfiction does not grant many opportunities
and skills for writing or requires certain capacities, but that these practices should not be
disconnected from their context. For instance, in all fanfiction it is deemed important to write
an existing character well. The fan-author has to understand the characters, their motives and
the story to assure this. In this sense he also focuses on other elements than a writer who
develops his own story world and characters. A fan-author is always a thorough interpreter,
even during the writing process, which forms an interesting difference between fan-authors
119
and authors of original content. This becomes a value specifically in the context of fanfiction
where one has to live up to an existing text.
Importantly, fans appear to be subversive writers and interpreters. They open existing
texts up to new material, provide them with countless interpretations and establish a
flourishing literary culture. However, at the same time they reconfirm conventional ideas of
authorship through their practices which are all seen as contributions to an existing text.
Where it would seem that fans themselves have an alternative idea of what authorship could
mean, this is not shown in their own discourse. Though I analyze their practices as a specific
type of writing, they take this for granted as part of their culture but perceive it as something
lower, a fan activity that is not the real thing. Still, these unique writing practices and
communities that fans establish are important to research in order to define author-reader-text
relations nowadays and to depict their diversity.
Being an author is perhaps not a status writers will give themselves. It is an
ideological, cultural construction that we use to classify texts, as well as the person that
created them (Foucault, 1984). As such authorship is a fairly new concept, one that became
necessary due to copyright (e.g., Landow, 2006, p. 102). It is a matter of literary history where
texts are classified and defined according to the person who wrote them. Authorship is a
notion that results from linear, printed texts that are recognized by the distance with their
audience and their relation to formal critics. These frozen texts form a contrast with the vivid
textual practices within fan communities.
Fanfiction is a matter of circulating texts and producing derivative fiction. The stories
are a shared good and highly intertextual when compared to original fiction. The reworking
and transforming in fan practices resembles oral cultures, where stories are always retold with
a personal touch to them and where every myth can be elaborated. Borrowed material is here
recombined into a new narrative. At the heart of these stories is the wish to pay tribute to
existing fiction. Though fanfiction is derived from other fiction it is no less creative or
entertaining. Where it may be easy to dismiss these stories nowadays as second-handed or
even stolen, fanfiction is very active online practice with its own standards on originality. A
wealth of new cultural material is created by fans that should not be underestimated. Fiction
has always relied on other fiction. Fans make this all the more visible.
120
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net/s/4853152/1/The_Locket
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Role-playing
Idiot Seraphim role-play community. Last accessed 15 July, 2009: http://community.livejour-

130
nal.com/idiotseraph_rp/
Luceti application. (2008, July 24). Last accessed 15 July, 2009: http://community.livejour-
nal.com/luceti/49540.html#cutid1
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luceti/
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nal.com/lucetiooc/
Interviews
Blanken, S. [Aquelapple] (17 April, 2009).

Hosted her fiction at an MSN community and distributes it amongst friends
Role-plays with ball-jointed Asian dolls.
Active for other fan practices at:
http://aquelapple.deviantart.com/
Lamerichs, C. [Meowzy-chan] (31 March, 2009).

Role-plays at Luceti and Tadium Vitae
Hosts her fiction at:
http://www.fanfiction.net/u/546506/Meowzy-chan
http://meowzy-chan.livejournal.com/
http://tales.namco.com/forums/
Maassen, I. [Xwingace] (14 May, 2009).

Hosts her fiction at:
http://www.fanfiction.net/~xwingace
http://xwingace.livejournal.com/
Meijer, W. [GinGin] (30 June, 2009). Personal contact about role-playing at boards.
Van den Hoogen, M. [Lizz or Wingedlizz] (31 April, 2009).

Roleplays at the MUSH of shoujoai.com
Hosts her fiction and fan art at:
http://www.fanfiction.net/~thelizz
http://www.kpslashhaven.net/index.php
131
Appendix A
Images
a) Fragment of a conversation at http://chikaidestroyer.livejournal.com/16930.html
b) Fragment of a conversation at http://inferrer.livejournal.com/823.html?thread=93239#t93239
132
c) Fragment of conversation at http://wise-maiden.livejournal.com/22727.html
d) Fragment of conversation at http://wise-maiden.livejournal.com/22727.html
133
e) Fragment of a log http://community.livejournal.com/lucetilogs/107408.html
f) Prequel to conversation b. http://inferrer.livejournal.com/823.html?thread=93239#t93239 Note the use

of icons continued in b.
134
Appendix B: Glossary
Concepts used by fanfiction authors
Action post – A post in a role-play that should be seen as a live action rather than mediated
through the journal (e.g., a character is shopping in the village and talking to others)
Angst - Angst refers to fanfiction in which a state of panic, anxiety or emotional instability is
depicted
Anime – Japanese animation series
Anti-fan – Term by Gray and Sandvoss (2007) which depicts anti-fans, fans that are not
recognizable through affinity with a source-text, but through sheer dislike and debunking of it
Application – Submission for applying to a role-playing game with a character. Usually a

division is made between forms for original characters and fan characters
AU – Alternative universe, a narrative providing an alternative to certain key elements in the

source-text, out of which a new plot develops. What if Voldemort had not killed Harry’s
parents? What if the planet Vulcan was destroyed? Such questions can be answered in AU
fiction
Author’s notes - Some writers post author’s note at the beginning of their fiction in which
they can reply to reviews, describe their life, writing practices or go into the fandom or
source-text
Beta-reading - Passing one’s writing to a peer reviewer that provides it with comments. One
can recruit beta-readers in various ways, for instance via a system in FanFiction.net, ask for
them at fan communities where one participates in or via more informal ways such as asking
friends who are also in the same fandom
BFFL - Best friends for life, a relationship that can be a good foundation for slash, such as
Harry/Ron
Canon – The established information in the source-text or what can be deduced from it
Canon review – Rereading or replaying the source-text to check the established facts,
important for writers (notably roleplayers) who aim to be very accurate
Canon-Sue – An exaggerated, glorified portrait of a character from the source-text
135
Community – In this thesis community refers usually to online virtual communities (and in a
few cases, a community offline) at various platforms (e.g., a fanfiction community at
LiveJournal). A fandom differs from this as being the large, overarching interest group spread
across various online and offline communities. See also, fandom
Cosplay – Fan practice in which fans make a costume from a certain series and wear this to a
convention or special occasion
Crossover – In crossover fanfiction two story worlds are combined into one narrative, for
instance Star Wars and Harry Potter
Derivative fiction - Fiction that bases itself on existing texts and transforms them into new
ones
Disclaimers – Credits in which a fanfiction authors states he does not own the property.
Dub or dubbing – Replacing the original voices in a series, movies or game with new,
translated ones to suit the audience in another country. This can also refer to a fan practice in
which fans replace the voices in the same language or otherwise, often with different,
humorous dialogues.
Emo – A character that is too emotional which results in for instance whiny behaviour or
depression. A character may be interpreted as being too emo in the source-text or may be
portrayed inadequately as emo in a fan text
Event - Happenings at the role-play community that last for a few days, for instance a
personality switch, a celebration, a fourth wall break
Fan – A fan is engaged emotionally and attentively with a source-text or genre. A fan uses the
text for self-expression through creative practices (e.g., fanfiction) or in daily life (e.g.,
clothing, posters and conversations)
Fan art – Fan practice in which fans base art (usually illustrations or comics) on existing
fiction either in their own graphic style or in the style of the source-text
Fandom – The fan community surrounding a certain fictional product, be it game, series or
movie. Fandoms can also be based on non-fiction such as a celebrity or sports club, though
this thesis deals more with media fans
Fanfiction [fanfic; fic] – Story written by and for fans based on the source-text they
appreciate (e.g., a videogame, a series, a movie)
Fannish – A proverb describing a subject or practice that has fan qualities, a term used by
scholars as well as fans
136
Fanon – Fan texts and discussions written by fans can lead to unofficial information, often
called fanon in contrast to canon (see canon). Interpretations and fiction that are not in the
original text influence the larger fan community here. In some cases the fanon may be
integrated or spoofed in the actual series
Fan video - Fan practice in which fans base videos on existing footage (e.g., a game, movie
or series) or make fan films themselves
Femmeslash - Fanfiction that addresses lesbian love affairs between existing characters that
are often portrayed as heterosexual or unspecified in the source-text
Ficlet – Small fic, one-shot, also sometimes referred to as drabble
Game master – A player or referee in a role-play. He also organizes the game and assures the
rules are followed
Het – Heterosexual fiction in opposition to slash
Hurt/Comfort – Genre (and motive) in fanfiction in which one character suffers a trauma,
physical or emotional, and another character attends to his aid
Icon – Small picture at your profile, usually not of yourself but of a fictional character to
underline your affinity with a certain fandom
In character [IC] – In role-playing this refers to statements that deal with the character rather
than the player. When dealing with regular fanfiction it means that a character behaves
according to the source-text and that his personality is described properly
Livejournal [LJ] - A blogging system that has existed since 1999. Its blogs and communities
give ground to many fan practices and discussions
Log – Third-person longer messages conducted at a specific log-community for role-playing.

Logs tend to deal with certain actions and the thoughts of characters elaborately, usually
involving only two or three participants
Manga – Japanese comic
Mary Sue – A perfect original character, brilliant and daring which is embedded in a fan text
along with existing characters. Mary Sue is frequently regarded as a wish-fulfillment of the
author. Both the type of story and the character are defined as Mary Sue
137
Moderator [Mod] – User in an online community with specific access to back-end options to
moderate discussions and to structure the community (e.g., keep it clean from spam and lock
inappropriate topics)
MUD – Multi-user dungeon, a virtual online world described in text which combines
elements of role-playing with online chats and quests. MUD’s have many variants, some of
which are more practical (e.g., have educational purposes) and less aimed at gaming
Multi-fandom role-playing - A role-playing game that makes use of several source-texts

and allows existing characters from all kinds of texts to enter
Mun – Abbreviation of ‘mundane’. The role-player, a term mostly used in LiveJournal role-
plays
Out of character [OOC] – In role-playing this refers to statements that deal with the player
rather than the character. In fanfiction it can also depict a character that behaves unlikely
when compared to the source-text. The character can also start to behave different in the
source-text itself. Out of character then means his personality is portrayed inconsistent
Ownership – Here meant as legal ownership, a concept of author’s right. Sometimes I refer to
emotional ownership when fans feel parts of the source-text or fan text are theirs that were not
grounded by them. They feel attached to them through their own practices.
Role-playing games (RPG) – In the first meaning of the word RPG’s are games in which all
players assume the role of a fictional character. The narrative is structured via rules or
guidelines in which the players determine actions for their characters. Role-plays can be
conducted offline in various forms (e.g., table-tops, LARP). Similarly there exists a variety of
online role-playing practices. Chapter 4 of this thesis deals specifically with textual role-plays
conducted through MUD’s, chats, boards, profile sites and blogs. Secondly RPG also refers to
refers to a subgenre of videogames (e.g., Tales of Symphonia). Here the gamer does not have
the same amount of interaction that players have in traditional role-playing games
Self-insertion – Genre of fanfiction in which the author inserts himself as a character in the
story world
Slash – Fanfiction that addresses gay love affairs between existing characters that are often
portrayed as heterosexual or unspecified in the source-text
Spin-off – Set in the same story world as the source-text, a spin-off focuses on a different cast
that can include guest appearances of characters from the established fiction. Examples from
general popular culture include Stargate Atlantis or Star Trek The Next Generation
Spoiler – A spoiler is information regarding an episode that has not aired yet (in certain parts
of the world). Commonly spoiler tags are added for fanfiction or discussions related to fairly
138
new seasons or episodes to make sure that some fans are not spoiled. Some fans actively want
to be spoiled, especially during season breaks, and are pleased with new information
Subtext – Implicit information in the source-text that is only hinted at. For instance, gay
subtext in Xena The Warrior Princess
Universe or verse – The setting and its history, the story world as it is generally described by
fans
Voice post – A post in a role-play in which the character chooses to speak to his journal
rather than write in it. The journal mediates this and other characters overhear it. A feature
often included in LiveJournal blogs. Mind, the feature is a textual one that players imagine: a
user cannot actually record his voice on LiveJournal
W.I.P. - Work in progress (e.g., fanfiction that is not yet finished but already posted for beta
reading)
Writer’s block - A well-known problems for fans and academics alike
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CAST master thesis, Maastricht University, 2009

University Maastricht: Cultures of Arts, Science and Technology

B.A. Arts and Sciences

Submitted to the program Cultures of Arts, Science and Technology in partial

© 2009 Nicolle Lamerichs. All rights reserved.

relationship between author-reader-text is constituted alternatively here when compared to

Defining the fan

The differences between fans and users

Fan practices across various media

Fandom as a heterogeneous construction

Transformative and performative authorship

Researching the fan

Self-reflexivity: The researcher as a fan

Once upon a time there was a storyteller

Think about it: Reception as an active process

The fine print: The hierarchy between a creator and fans

No trespassing: Legal aspects of fan fiction

Can you imagine it? The many genres of fanfiction

Be My Beta: Social and creative Skills

Play it your way: Tales of Symphonia

Tales of Symphonia at FanFiction.net

Feedback from fellow-fans

Interactivity and collaboration

Help, I’m a Sue! Self-conscious elements in fanfiction

Notably self-insertion fanfiction addresses the interface of a game in various ways.

The practice and varieties of role-playing

Role-playing systems online: Defining these texts and their writers

Luceti: The plot and its characters

Using LiveJournal to stage stories

of plot/choices. If a fan role-player is criticized it will often be on these grounds. Like in

Performing characters: The live audience, gestures and the mise-en-scene

Between gaming and writing

A role-play is distinctive by enabling a writerly discourse in which the author is in fact

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