If. . .
Disclaimer: I don't own anything Tolkien created or Peter Jackson mutilated (sorry, I'm a Glorfindel lover).
My take on Mary Sues, OCs (This chapter focuses on the subspecies who fall into Middle Earth), and other random stuffs. This story is dedicated to Artemis' Concerning Mary Sue and Other Essays and this particular chapter, Artemis' Mary Sue Parody Parody. V. excellent if you ask me.
The author sat in a desk, a blank piece of lined paper in front of her beside a plain black pen. I stood over her shoulder, breathing down her neck.
Oh, have we met? I'm an OC, nice to meet you. I tend to fall into Middle Earth, I'm incredibly clumsy. I'm also racked with guilt at critical plot points in the stories written about me. The reviewers scorn me and my dark past, but they don't understand what it's like to be me! How torturous it is to have these pointed ears, and I never fit into my own world!
I wake up and the Valar, who are quite familiar with me in my various forms, are usually kind enough to drop me in Rivendell. Well, usually not *in*, but close enough that I can get an arrow in my face.
But I feel so Mary-Suish whenever Elrond asks me to join the Fellowship. It's so embarrassing and I know I will be a burden. But I go nevertheless and turn out to not only save Boromir and Haldir (since the authors kind enough to write me usually haven't read the books), but to destroy the Witch-King single-handedly for the ones who have read the books. Who needs that Éowyn anyway? I can't stand women who try to out-butch my Aragorn/Legolas/Boromir.
Ah, I see my contagious brilliance beginning to take hold in the author's mind. Wait, wait, YES! I watch her title the top of her page: Journey to Middle Earth. I told you, no one can resist the OC. I gloat to my counter- part, Blatant Sue as the author writes her disclaimer. Blatant Sue just tosses her fiery red/raven/golden/ash blonde hair and sniffs, tears forming in those blue/green/golden/violet (A/N: AH! TOO MANY COLORS!) eyes.
This author however, is more prudent than others I have infected and writes a synopsis. I flinch as I realize my error. I hate authors who have actually read the series before their story gets that far. Not only that, but this one has read the story without seeing the movie.
I lean over her shoulder and read what she's written so far, though it has some notes to herself:
"Synopsis: Sarah falls into Middle Earth. Darn it, this has been done SO many times before. Worth a try."
Always, I smirk.
"Sarah wakes to find herself not in Rivendell, but outside Moria. The Fellowship pours out, deep in grief. Sarah runs to comfort. . . who should the romance be? I'll make it Legolas for now, always the easiest. Sarah runs to comfort Legolas."
I rub my hands in anticipation. I always liked the Legomances the best. But, *Moria*?
"She walks up to him and tries to talk to him. He glares in confusion but DOES NOT DRAW A WEAPON."
I stand next to the author, bewildered. But-but-but, Legolas *has* to point a weapon at me. That way he can feel abashed when he realizes I am but a lady and later tries to handle me gently. Where is that insane author taking this story?
"He says something to her and now it is her turn to be confused. He wouldn't speak to her in Elvish, so why can't she understand him? Because Westron is different than English. She sits down in shock, but nobody really notices her. The Fellowship continues on and Sarah, uncertain of anything else to do, follows them.
"However, on only the second day of her travels, Sarah begins to sicken."
What is this stupid doing? Wait, perhaps a hurt/comfort session? Legolas shall heal you, poor Sarah!
"The Fellowship, feeling no kinship for her, has no compunctions against leaving her when she finally collapses. Why does she get sick? Because she catches a disease they don't have in our world. The Fellowship are immune, perhaps even carriers, but Sarah catches it because her immune system isn't adapted to the diseases of Middle Earth. If she ever went to Middle Earth, she would die within a week.
"And that is what would happen on a Journey to Middle Earth."
The author puts down her pen, looking satisfied. I am paralyzed with fear and horror. No author has ever written something like this. It's awful! I can barely balance myself as I walk out of the room, into another house.
But there is a thirteen year-old in this house, staring at a picture of Frodo. I lean over and whisper in her ear. She jumps for her computer and begins to write.
Well, you win some, you lose some, I thought to myself. But some jobs are just too easy.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything Tolkien created or Peter Jackson mutilated (sorry, I'm a Glorfindel lover).
My take on Mary Sues, OCs (This chapter focuses on the subspecies who fall into Middle Earth), and other random stuffs. This story is dedicated to Artemis' Concerning Mary Sue and Other Essays and this particular chapter, Artemis' Mary Sue Parody Parody. V. excellent if you ask me.
The author sat in a desk, a blank piece of lined paper in front of her beside a plain black pen. I stood over her shoulder, breathing down her neck.
Oh, have we met? I'm an OC, nice to meet you. I tend to fall into Middle Earth, I'm incredibly clumsy. I'm also racked with guilt at critical plot points in the stories written about me. The reviewers scorn me and my dark past, but they don't understand what it's like to be me! How torturous it is to have these pointed ears, and I never fit into my own world!
I wake up and the Valar, who are quite familiar with me in my various forms, are usually kind enough to drop me in Rivendell. Well, usually not *in*, but close enough that I can get an arrow in my face.
But I feel so Mary-Suish whenever Elrond asks me to join the Fellowship. It's so embarrassing and I know I will be a burden. But I go nevertheless and turn out to not only save Boromir and Haldir (since the authors kind enough to write me usually haven't read the books), but to destroy the Witch-King single-handedly for the ones who have read the books. Who needs that Éowyn anyway? I can't stand women who try to out-butch my Aragorn/Legolas/Boromir.
Ah, I see my contagious brilliance beginning to take hold in the author's mind. Wait, wait, YES! I watch her title the top of her page: Journey to Middle Earth. I told you, no one can resist the OC. I gloat to my counter- part, Blatant Sue as the author writes her disclaimer. Blatant Sue just tosses her fiery red/raven/golden/ash blonde hair and sniffs, tears forming in those blue/green/golden/violet (A/N: AH! TOO MANY COLORS!) eyes.
This author however, is more prudent than others I have infected and writes a synopsis. I flinch as I realize my error. I hate authors who have actually read the series before their story gets that far. Not only that, but this one has read the story without seeing the movie.
I lean over her shoulder and read what she's written so far, though it has some notes to herself:
"Synopsis: Sarah falls into Middle Earth. Darn it, this has been done SO many times before. Worth a try."
Always, I smirk.
"Sarah wakes to find herself not in Rivendell, but outside Moria. The Fellowship pours out, deep in grief. Sarah runs to comfort. . . who should the romance be? I'll make it Legolas for now, always the easiest. Sarah runs to comfort Legolas."
I rub my hands in anticipation. I always liked the Legomances the best. But, *Moria*?
"She walks up to him and tries to talk to him. He glares in confusion but DOES NOT DRAW A WEAPON."
I stand next to the author, bewildered. But-but-but, Legolas *has* to point a weapon at me. That way he can feel abashed when he realizes I am but a lady and later tries to handle me gently. Where is that insane author taking this story?
"He says something to her and now it is her turn to be confused. He wouldn't speak to her in Elvish, so why can't she understand him? Because Westron is different than English. She sits down in shock, but nobody really notices her. The Fellowship continues on and Sarah, uncertain of anything else to do, follows them.
"However, on only the second day of her travels, Sarah begins to sicken."
What is this stupid doing? Wait, perhaps a hurt/comfort session? Legolas shall heal you, poor Sarah!
"The Fellowship, feeling no kinship for her, has no compunctions against leaving her when she finally collapses. Why does she get sick? Because she catches a disease they don't have in our world. The Fellowship are immune, perhaps even carriers, but Sarah catches it because her immune system isn't adapted to the diseases of Middle Earth. If she ever went to Middle Earth, she would die within a week.
"And that is what would happen on a Journey to Middle Earth."
The author puts down her pen, looking satisfied. I am paralyzed with fear and horror. No author has ever written something like this. It's awful! I can barely balance myself as I walk out of the room, into another house.
But there is a thirteen year-old in this house, staring at a picture of Frodo. I lean over and whisper in her ear. She jumps for her computer and begins to write.
Well, you win some, you lose some, I thought to myself. But some jobs are just too easy.
