Welcome. A thousand times, welcome.
I bring you this, a wand'ring, a delve into the depths, the pit of voles calls our names, and, marry, we must go.
No, but seriously, welcome.
This is FanFiction.
The first thing, the very first thing that I simply must explain to you, is this: We are a despised few. We are the simple, the pitied, the undulating middle. We are the ones who, when of us stories are spoken, are laughed at and forgotten, for we are famous in our non-existence. We, my dears, are the dregs, the bottom of the barrel, the laughable mass, the world outside the worlds.
We are, of course, FanFiction.
And so I say to you: With such a reputation as that, with such a notoriety for impulse publishes, and such infamously moderator-less halls… Why would anyone ever come here? Wherefore doth this madhouse stay erect?
And I say to you…For we knew not better, and we, of course, knew no worse. And now that we are here, and Aerwiar, and la-di-da, let me explain. We are not loved, we are not feared. We are, as I have said before, the undulating middle. We are the lost. The frozen chosen.
Although, of course, we aren't.
Look well around and you will see the evidence that you are not alone. Look well around and you will see that 'writers' (I call them that for lack of better name) from all walks of life, from all ages, some legal, some illicit, flock here, a crowd, a murder, a parliament of plucked and roasted owls. They put us here, and due to an unfortunate Catch-88 we cannot leave. So here we stay.
For this is, of course, perforce, forthwith, FanFiction.
For as and so long as we stay this way, we are unwelcome in the feeds of other, better fanfic sites. We are despised, spat dust upon, we are detested by the wise. And while we are thus shunned, ignored, we cannot gain the knowledge we must have to venture forth. We know not how to live, write, breath anew the air of higher, better planes, for we are kept, held underground, and we have gone to sleep.
And so we stay.
And welcome, once again. Let me explain to you, the vagaries and prejudice of this unloved webworld.
First of all, you must create your account.
Tisn't difficult at all, this shifting and remaking of the space in which thou'lt set thy name, for years and ages left to come, a monument, however small, to your genius, or what's left of it after you've lived some years.
Begin. And we shall meet anon.
First of the rules which, though mainly disregarded, do set apart the good from the bad, the sheep from goats, the ones which can be read and the ones which can't. Do you know the difference? Many do,
And yet forget they the rules the moment set they their finger to their keyboard. Forget ye not, that dead men tell no tales, and so must it be with one whose ENTER key is dead. Your tales, fics, stories, whatever it may be, must not be dense and packed, a single, forty-lined paragraph, amidst a sea of commas.
Make you your white space, else no one will venture to strain their eyes deep into your morass of print. Make you your white space. Thus it is.
A second rule which must be followed: Do you know the difference between a comma or a quote? Perhaps you don't. Let me explain.
A comma, for the layman, represents a break, a stop, a half-way point between the capital (the beginning) and the period (at the end). And so it is for most, who don't know where to put their ,s, and leave them in the middle of a statement, even amidst a gerund or participle. Leave you these doings and attend.
In speech do we run on? No. We do not.
In real life those who talk or those who chatter know when to pause and take a breath lest their effusive babblings forth empty them their lungs of air and breath so that instead of speech what issues forth is nothing more than gasping and the choking of a one who'd like to speak anon but finds as they attempt to do so that their precious oxygen is of them quite deprived and with a final sigh they sink unto the ground and take deep gasping breaths and while they do the conversing continues without them and they are lost.
See you what perhap may be the problem with the sentence writ above? No break to take, no pause to make, no place for the weary reader's mind to stop and take a breath. Taxing though it may be, to read these sentences, remember also that words are always meant to be read aloud. Place you your commas well, and remember where to place: In sentences, the comma dwells, where there must be a stop, inflection, or a grateful pause.
And so to quotes.
This is a quote: '
And this as well: "
Either may be used, though careful to choose and stay to one, for no one likes to see a quote be used mismatched and inconsistent. And here may be where they are placed.
'Forsooth, i'faith,' quoth Joe, as from the burning schoolroom he escaped, 'to light a fire beneath my desk were not the wisest choice.'
See you where quotes may be descried? To designate the speaker's speech, or to depict where once a letter may've been placed but now is not. For instance, in the word 'don't', the ' before the t marks where 'o' had been before (do not became don't). However, in the common, incorrect way, too many laymen use the quote to indicate a plural. The word 'Robinson's' does not mean the clan of many men named Robinson. It means an object which belongs to a Robinson. Which of these is correct, and which should, aye, be hung:
The Robinson's cat is dead.
The cat belonging to the Robinson's is dead.
Which think you to be right? Tis the first. The second could be better writ thus:
The cat belonging to the Robinsons is dead.
Though perhap this way to you looks strange, believe me, tis the better.
One exception to boggle the mind: The word 'its'.
Aye. There is such a word, and trust me in my usage. Which is right:
The monster smashed it's club upon the ground.
The monster smashed its club upon the ground.
Which think you right? No, tis the second. The first is incorrect. The word 'it's' may only be used in place of 'it is', not to show possession. I do beseech your pardon for this grievous meddling in the English language, but twas not I who made the tongue, and for it I am not to be held to blame.
A last correction I shall make upon thy usage 'fore we depart to clearer, more pleasant waters:
'I am famished', Johnny said, and threw himself to table. 'let me eat.'
'I am famished,' Johnny said, and threw himself to table. 'Let me eat.'
Which is correct? Tis not the first. Two instances I bring to you: First, note the placement of the comma. For in the correct typetation, the comma'd be within the quote, for it's part of the character's speech, and all tis part of the sentence. Second, note the capital L, the start of 'Let', for it is right only in the second instance. 'Let me eat' is a different sentence, and so it is capitalized as befits a new sentence.
Be at peace. I say no more.
To now begin the dabbling, the cursed, blessed meddling, the fixing of a mind unto mine own.
Remember thee the quote I make, and make here, now: 'Use your own. Make it your own. Do nothing that's been done before.'
And so you see. Wouldst make a monument, a classic structure, unto thy name and honor? Then do so. Take ye not from others' works, neither from what thou'st done already. Once is enough, for any fic, and so for all ideas. Be fresh, iconic, exciting. Make something up.
And so we go to examples of the fics which, though popular, must be recognized and despised for the real despicable waste of time they are. Thou'rt ready? Then away.
First, we begin with a storyline called 'Army of Chaos'.
Fie. The name makes me shudder, the cold, clammy fear of what I see behind my eyes at night making me desirous of retchings and smashing of delicate objects with pickaxes.
Army of Chaos, then, and we'll have done.
Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon, beloved of Annabeth Chase, betrayed by the gods and cast to Tartarus, where meets he the Ancient one Chaos.
Werewith Chaos takes him to his halls, where Chaos has, for centuries, been creating a great army, in which he has placed all the greatest perished heroes: Silena, Beckendorf, Zoe. And so Percy becomes, through no great undertaking of his own, the leader of the army, which then marches on Olympus or for it.
And there you have it. The act of sickenment, the disgusting putrid slimebag of filth which designates all awful writers, and awful ideas.
Write you not it.
Okay, guys, that's a wrap! I thought it'd be fun to write in a more old-fashioned, poetic style. Read the words inside your head; I've kind of given them a rythmic lilting. I kinda like it. Kinda don't. It's rather hard to do, and yes, for anyone who caught it, I did take the style from James Thurber's Thirteen Clocks and The Wonderful O, which, by the way, are fantastic stories that really everyone should read.
See you next time! Coffee Shops chapter 3 should be coming soon, then I'ma write for this a little more, then maybe I'll go back to Invictus, maybe I'll put it up for adoption. I don't know.
Au revoir, my good people!
Survive!