Fan Fiction or Fun Pastime?
The Star Trek fanzine Spockanalia contained the first fan fiction in the modern sense of the term. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
An entire genre has developed itself over the past 40 years or so. Ever since the original Star Trek warped through space, we’ve toyed with the idea of all those stories that never got written about the characters that intrigued us, who captured out respect and hearts. The movement became known as Fan Fiction.
I doubt any serious TV viewer has passed up an opportunity to fantasize about what would happen if… and brought the conjecture back into the series fold as a full-blown story, whether it was written down or not. I’ve done it for years—had whole scripts with good plots, great characters, and even parts for all the regular characters. And the sad thing is that I could have done something with them, if only as fan fiction and not sent the script to the studio for consideration by that series’ team of writers.
It’s one of those “I should have” things that many of us live with on a daily basis. “I should have” gone to see… “I should have” known better than… Truth is, I had a girlfriend back in ’67 when I lived in LA, who’d just sold her script to Desilu Studios for a Star Trek episode. The day after she got word, she was murdered two blocks from our building. The incident sort of put me off Fan Fiction for a while.
Last year I sat down to write poetry of a minor competition—there were no prizes involved, but critiques. My piece didn’t do very well. The audience was too young. That happens more frequently than older writers want to believe.
I still have the poem, which I’ll share here in a moment. I went back through it and changed a few things here and there. It leaped out of the hard drive this morning, screaming at me to find it a home. Since I don’t have any markets (that I can find), I decided to drop it here in order to create a challenge for those who’re up for it.
Everyone has/had a favorite show from their childhood. Now’s your chance to create a little fan fiction to commemorate that show. Write a story in 200 words or less using your favorite character from that show. Or write a poem about said character in a new situation. Recapture the heart of the character and share it here with us.
There’s no prize involved; no judging either. We are merely sharing bits of imagination for the fun of it. Be sure to inform us at the end of the piece the name of the show and the character’s name if you haven’t used it in your story. That’s all there is too it. Don’t be shy. Branch out and explore some fun. I can hardly wait to see what everyone comes up with.
Here’s my poem and how I approached my character from those long ago days of the 60’s,
Remembering Past Trails
He ambled toward the pioneer wagon,
His body sinew-lean, gently rocking.
Crevasses furrowed his weathered face,
Aging him—crinkling blue eyes and tightening lips.
Suspense rose with the background music
As one gloved finger tapped his hat brim.
He posed no menace in this traveler’s guise,
Yet his eyes told of his struggles with it.
His voice stayed low and warm when asking
For water, even as his glance saw all in view.
He gave news of trouble, possibly in days to come
From those who would steal and rip the land asunder.
When thirsting horse and man had quenched their need,
The lean stranger–gun on hip, whip on saddle–mounted.
His mission complete for now, another family warned.
Next week would come more trouble for a man named Rowdy.
Fan Fiction for a little series known far and wide as “RAWHIDE”.
Bring you chairs and wait for the show. I’m so looking forward to watching the coming attractions. Now’s your change to break out. Take it.
Claudsy
Related articles
- Fan Fiction Addiction (limebirduk.wordpress.com)
- Fran Drescher Reads Naughty Nanny Fan Fiction On WWHL (perezhilton.com)
- Looking for a good Fan-fic!? (phoenixfeatherbird.wordpress.com)
- 30 Days of Blogging Honesty: Day 2 (westendsingleton.wordpress.com)
- Unlikely Fan Fiction Crossover Battles: When Diablo Meets My Little Pony, Horrible Things Happen [Diablo] (kotaku.com)
Leave a Reply
Claudette J. Young
Liebster Blog Award
Share This
Readers On Claudsy
| Homepage on Wednesday Interview: Mikki… | |
| The MNINB Annotated… on Wednesday’s Interview wi… | |
 | Donna on Whether Looney or Not |
Claudsy's Blog 
Clint Eastwood! I spent 35 years of waitressing sidework with that tune stuck in my head. Rolling silverware. Rolling, Rolling, Rolling…Rawhide. My own lyrics, of course. And of course, who could forget Clint Eastwood singing in Paint Your Wagon!?! I’ll have to think on your challenge awhile. Need coffee. But you have my memoirs percolating.
hahaha, even this response is great fun, Lara!
Can’t wait to see what you come up with, Lara. I’ll be waiting for it.
Mostly grew up without TV, but in my teens I used to love to watch one show. Here is my fan flashy:
I remember snow… awake, breath comes slowly,
I remember shadows, belly full, sleep, peaceful comfort, safe dark,
I remember frost, golden leaves, silky fur, slow, heavy body,
I remember pink meat, wet, slippery catch, water, splashing game,
I remember meadow, sun, warmth, rest, chirping, crawling ground,
I remember buzzing, sweet, annoying, protect nose, run away,
I remember longing, searching, lust, desire, enticing scent,
I remember itchy, rubbing, scratching, hilltop tree,
I remember green, fresh, new, tender, tasty chew,
I remember joy, run, roll, excitement, no limits,
I remember hunger… awake, heartbeat quickens.
A bear coming out of hibernation from Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom
Veronica, this is great! Cute memories 😀
Great job, Veronica! I remember Wild Kingdom, too. It was one that we watched every week. Marlin Perkins took us all on some great adventures. I will never forget his voice or dry sense of humor.
Thank you for bring back these memories. You know, as I do, what it’s like to live in bear country. Things never get dull.
The parking lot at Arnold’s was packed, as usual. I sighed as Dad pulled up and I got out of the car. I grabbed my skates and Dad said, “Stay away from that Fonzie kid.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. He drove away.
“Stay away from that Fonzie kid,” I mimicked. Parents! So old fashioned! I sat on the curb, kicked off my sneakers and laced up my skates. I didn’t want to be late for work. Arnold yelled all the time. I rolled through the lot and into the side door to put away my things. I could see the crowd was up and dancing to “Splish Splash” blaring from the jukebox.
It was going to be a long shift.
All night long, I served up burgers, fries and shakes and Cokes to diners outside in their cars. Through the window I saw Richie, Ralph Malph and Potsie monopolize the center booth as usual. The only one missing tonight was Fonzie.
The Fonz. If James Dean had a twin, he’d look like Fonzie. At the snap of his fingers, the girls come running.
But not me. Nope.
I had a crush on another. He didn’t know I existed, but I liked watching him from afar. There was something honest and noble about Richie Cunningham. His smile and freckles never failed to warm my heart. I kept his campaign button from last month, when he ran for Class President. It’s in my jewelry box.
Who am I kidding? I’ve seen him with Gloria, that gorgeous blonde.
“Hey, kiddo!” I looked up to see Arnold at the door. “Can you come inside and wait on tables?”
I nodded and skated back inside, happy to trade my skates for sneakers again, but suddenly very nervous. Richie was inside. OK. Calm down. Just do your job.
As soon as I walk through the saloon door, Ralph is signalling me.
“Waitress!”
Oh, great.
Somehow I make it to their table, pad and pen in hand.
“Settle a bet for me, OK?” Ralph said.
I look at them, confused.
“Who is the better slugger? Eddie Mathews or Hank Aaron?” I wanted to slap the smug look off of Ralph’s face.
“C’mon guys, leave her alone,” Richie said.
“Well,” I said. “Let’s put it this way. Fifty, sixty years from now, people will know Hank Aaron’s name.”
“See? I told you!” Potsie exclaimed.
“Oh, sit on it!” Ralph said, clearly disappointed in my answer. He stormed away, Potsie on his heels, still arguing.
I felt Richie looking at me. “Um … did you want to order something else?”
“Well, yeah, um. Sure,” he stammered. “Another Cherry Coke?”
“Anything else?”
“Ummm … no … I mean … I …”
I waited. He seemed to struggle for something to say.
“Uhh … so Hank Aaron, huh?”
I smiled. “Yup. Hank Aaron.”
He smiled. I can see him relax a bit.
“I’m Richie, by the way.”
“I’m Lori Beth.”
Excellent, Any. So that’s how they got acquainted. I never knew that. I here I thought Richie had trouble getting dates all those years. Too bad it took him so long to notice just the right one, huh?
I’ve enjoyed this little slice of the American pie. Thank so much for coming in to play today, Amy. Don’t be a stranger. I never know what I’m going to put up here until it happens.
So Richie could have been dating Lori Beth all that time if he’d just gotten away from the “boys” more often. Hmmm, funny how life works out.
Thanks, Claudette. I had a lot of fun writing it. I read the wikipedia section about “Happy Days” and it brought back memories. I look forward to seeing what’s next on Clausdy’s Blog.
I think I’ll have a different challenge next week, just to see who will come to play and how they complete the task. That’s the fun part. I get to learn so much about people and how they think.
I’m so glad you came to play, Amy.
Oh, it’s so intriguing. 🙂 It’s always very cool when we fill in some blanks the authors just left empty. And I love when young people fall in love, that’s a great scene, to be sure.
It is, isn’t it, Mariya. I’m happy you came to play. Please don’t be a stranger around here. Even I never know what will show up on here on a given day. Hope to see you hear again soon.
Thanks, Mariya. It was my first try at fan fiction. Now I see why people like it. 🙂
Well… I was derailed by Rawhide memories of Clint Eastwood… Okay have stopped swooning and will write something….
You did good, Pearl. Roy Rogers. Sorry, always too tame for me. Paladin was more my style. Loved that poker face. I knew plenty who would have fought you for the western crooner, though.
Thanks so much for stopping in and playing.
My Hero
There on my bedroom wall
Was a magic square
And any time I wanted him
He would heroically appear right there
On that triggered brilliant blazed Palomino
With a Chiclet gentle smile
and sky blue eyes searching just for me
He melted all troubles just that easily
In a cloud of settled dust
without any of his side-kicks
and without that woman certainly
Would appear at most needed moments
Handsome, reliable, consistent, mystical and calming
Roy Rogers after hours on my own closed circuited t.v.
Now we know the truth, Pearl, my girl. You just wanted Trigger, didn’t you? One fine piece of horse flesh there.
Good for you. I never had posters to drool over. I led a deprived childhood you know.
I used to love Star trek as a kiddo!!
I love this description: “His body sinew-lean,” great poem, Clauds!!
Glad you liked it, Hannah. To this day, I don’t know why I wrote that one, other than I needed a flash fiction western story and chose to do it in poem form.
Well for that I’m grateful, it was a fun one! 🙂
Thanks, my friend.
🙂
Fine, here is mine. It’s based on Blake’s 7, which was the only sci-fi series shown on our TV. I was 6-7th grade at school and that was our main game, along with Star wars, of course 🙂 It was great fun composing this. I had to take down several parts, as it was too long. haha, I had to look up Blake’s first name, as everybody called him just “Blake”.
***
“Listen, Roj, I can’t stand it”, said Monica. “Sort things out with Avon. Find a way, make it up. I don’t know.” The tension in her voice escalated.
Blake only bit his lips. The deep creases on his forehead looked almost black.
“Monique,” he attempted tenderness, but his voice was not used to that. “I AM trying.”
“No, you aren’t! You two are in war. And we all see it. And it will tear us apart.” She hesitated for a second and then mumbled, “And not only that.”
Blake blinked for a moment, wondering what to say. He was amazed at her tearful brown eyes.
“Why are you crying?” he croaked.
“It’s nothing.” she retorted. “Too tired, that’s all.”
He could see it now. Too absorbed in his revolutionary cause, he hadn’t realized that his little sister was on board with his crew of escaped convicts. Constantly on the run and hiding, Blake had blocked all human emotions as dangerous and missed to see how Monica changed when Avon entered the room. “Oh, my God!” he thought. Aloud he said:
“I’ll make it up to him. I promise.” He put his cheek to her lips.
***
And now, to reading!
Great little scene from Blakes7. It’s been so long since I heard the title. So glad you posted it. Poor old Avon, so misunderstood, so abused. Who was I to tell him that the couple of times I watched the show, I thought he was merely an egocentric jerk.
He wasn’t even in your scene and still managed to make trouble for the characters. Guess that goes to show what that kind of character can do within the framework of an entire piece of work.
wow, Claudsy, you developed it so thoroughly, That’s right, he was a troubled mind 🙂 always opposing Blake. But, you know, I used to be in love with him. I guess I liked his “expert” cool attitude. And, of course, I was very jealous with the Supreme Commander, as they seemed to have a little something. Even at 12 I could guess that. Great fun going back to childhood 🙂
Thanks!
You’re welcome, Mariya. Some of the things that we thought were so cool back then tend to strike me as so amateurish now. I look at the difference between the original Star Trek and Star Trek Generations and wonder what I could possibly have found so mesmerizing about the first one. At the same time, I compare that Star Trek to shows like Lost in Space and have to laugh. At least the script themes asked very pertinent questions that spoke to the times in which they were written.
Perspective shifts so completely through time and experience that nothing can be seen the same way every again. We love them or hate them, but we’re never indifferent to them once we’ve claimed them, even a little bit.
Glad yo had fun with it and had a good memory to return to.
Herbert T. Gillis ran a grocery
store, while his son hung out
with television’s first glimpse
of a beatnik. I was mezmerized
by the “beautiful” girl that Dobie
chased. I wanted to be Thalia,
perfect figure, sexy voice, desired
by all the boys in town. And how cool
that her real name was Tuesday
Weld. Tuesday. Why couldn’t
I have a name like that? Where
is she now?
Poor Dobie. He never got what he wanted, but he did get what he needed. Maynard T. Crebbs was my hero for a long time. Dobie was just too, what can I say. He was the typical “Look-at-the-chest” guy in school. Maynard had depth. It’s just that no one could tell how far it went.
Zelma always fought for control of the situation, knowing in her heart that Thalia would take the day. And poor Thalia, who wanted so much more from life, but felt she had only one thing to give it.
Read Tuesday’s bio sometimes. It’s a real eye-opener.
So glad you dropped in, Sara, to play for a little while. Come back soon.
Thanks, C.
You’re welcome.
Thanks, Claire. I’ll be back to see what you’ve come up with. This is something that I’ve done in my head for a long time.