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Chapter One: A Very Peculiar Beginning
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The Authoress would first of all like to point out that she is not a nutball.
What, you were expecting something deep and meaningful to begin with? A simple statement is often the way to go – especially when said simple statement is self-protective. She is not crazy. A little off kilter sometimes, yes, but she has not yet crossed the line into fully-fledged psychosis.
She would also like to point out that 'sane' is a misnomer. It doesn't, in point of fact, automatically mean 'not insane'. There are many different layers and levels of insanity, some of which people can reach several times a day without even realising it. The Authoress is vaguely aware of which echelon she is currently inhabiting, and that is enough for her to say with some certainty that she is not nutty.
It is an odd sensation, she realises, going back and rereading what she's written. Readers are most likely wondering what she is babbling on about, and she appreciates that she is not always the easiest person to understand. Still, as she sits huddled over her computer terminal, perennially aware of the librarian's beady eye fixed upon her back, she can't help but prattle a little. After all, she reasons, this is a stream of consciousness deal, and the brain is rarely the most organised of places. Dragons have it down to a fine art, shelving information and storing away thoughts, memories and knowledge with all the efficiency of the aforementioned beady librarian. The Authoress knows this because she has spoken with several Dragons. She is actually on first name terms with one. However, humans are much more chaotic; and, despite everything, The Authoress is still quite human.
Well, most of the time, anyway. She *is* The Authoress, after all. The title should really speak for itself. With a few keystrokes she can be anything she wants – including a Dragon. But for now, she is content to remain human. It makes things a little easier to understand, she hopes.
So, computer room. And questions. What, she can almost physically hear readers asking, is this nonsense she is spouting? And how does this have *anything* at all to do with X-Men: Evo?
The answer is both simple and complex. This, in spite of appearances, is indeed a piece of Evo fanfiction. It is a fanfiction about fanfiction – hence The Authoress has broken her near-cardinal rule never to insert herself into a narrative. She's had brushes with Mary-Sues before, and, with all the inherent power that comes from being The Authoress, she is fully aware of how easy it is to put on the Mary-Sue mask and make an utter fool of herself. She has just finished trawling through a certain fanfiction archive's updates, and so has had very recent firsthand contact with such creatures. It is an ugly experience. Not that she needed the archive to tell her that. She has several Internal Characters who border on, and fall into the Mary-Sue, Gary-Lou trap. Slightly fewer in the latter, which is a whole other depression she won't go into right now.
The Authoress has noticed that she is not making much sense. Which is not unusual, but needs rectifying here, she feels.
Internal Characters have several names, the most common being shorthand 'OC'. They are usually residents of fanart and fanfiction, owing to the fact that they typically belong to one person, and have been created by said person for their own means. They can be for fan-related purposes, or even characters in original works that have not yet been made public. Their antithesis, External Characters, are the impetus behind fanfiction. They are the published, the televised, the silver-screen stars. They are the property of somebody else, and fans simply borrow and channel them when the desire to do so strikes. Disclaimers are the standard way of protection against the copyright laws that enshroud these External Characters, and The Authoress now realises that she does not have one at the top of this piece.
No matter. No External Characters have made an appearance yet, so she is safe for the moment, and can get on with her justifications for blathering on like this.
As she has already said, this is a fanfiction about fanfiction. It is meant to be an exploration into the world of aficionado that The Author routinely inhabits. It is meant to be interesting and question-provoking, but The Authoress has a sneaking suspicion that this is turning into one great big ego trip. So she is going to cut this first instalment short.
Or at least, she was until the phone started ringing.
She doesn't need to pick it up. Mental phone-lines work differently to corporeal, and so after the first shriek she listens to the voice that follows.
"You're confusing them," says Jean. Jean likes to call The Authoress out of the blue like this. She has a mischievous streak that people rarely acknowledge, but which The Authoress often gets treated to. She doesn't really know why Jean does this to her in particular. Perhaps it is because The Authoress is in the middle of writing a scene from her POV in another, unrelated fic. External Characters like to call when they know they're being written about, if only to give advice and counsel on where writers are going wrong with their characterisation. Sometimes they're not heeded, which ticks them off a bit.
Jean knows The Authoress listens, though. Which maybe why she doesn't bother with pleasantries when she calls.
"Fine," says The Authroess. The security guard is coming by, calling for time, and she sighs at Jean. "Should I wrap up?"
"You can't mix them up any more by stopping. Let them absorb, then come back and see if they have anything to say before you barrel in with guns blazing."
Jean's advice is generally good. That's one of the reasons many writers don't like scribing about her – she's too level-headed to be interesting.
"I heard that." Jean puts the phone down. External Characters hardly ever say goodbye.
The Authoress sighs again, and stretches her back, cracking a few vertebrae back into place. She'll take Jean's advice, just like she always does. Just like Jean knew she would.
Sometimes, when time runs out but inspiration doesn't, being The Authoress sucks harder than an industrial vacuum.
Chapter One: A Very Peculiar Beginning
=========
The Authoress would first of all like to point out that she is not a nutball.
What, you were expecting something deep and meaningful to begin with? A simple statement is often the way to go – especially when said simple statement is self-protective. She is not crazy. A little off kilter sometimes, yes, but she has not yet crossed the line into fully-fledged psychosis.
She would also like to point out that 'sane' is a misnomer. It doesn't, in point of fact, automatically mean 'not insane'. There are many different layers and levels of insanity, some of which people can reach several times a day without even realising it. The Authoress is vaguely aware of which echelon she is currently inhabiting, and that is enough for her to say with some certainty that she is not nutty.
It is an odd sensation, she realises, going back and rereading what she's written. Readers are most likely wondering what she is babbling on about, and she appreciates that she is not always the easiest person to understand. Still, as she sits huddled over her computer terminal, perennially aware of the librarian's beady eye fixed upon her back, she can't help but prattle a little. After all, she reasons, this is a stream of consciousness deal, and the brain is rarely the most organised of places. Dragons have it down to a fine art, shelving information and storing away thoughts, memories and knowledge with all the efficiency of the aforementioned beady librarian. The Authoress knows this because she has spoken with several Dragons. She is actually on first name terms with one. However, humans are much more chaotic; and, despite everything, The Authoress is still quite human.
Well, most of the time, anyway. She *is* The Authoress, after all. The title should really speak for itself. With a few keystrokes she can be anything she wants – including a Dragon. But for now, she is content to remain human. It makes things a little easier to understand, she hopes.
So, computer room. And questions. What, she can almost physically hear readers asking, is this nonsense she is spouting? And how does this have *anything* at all to do with X-Men: Evo?
The answer is both simple and complex. This, in spite of appearances, is indeed a piece of Evo fanfiction. It is a fanfiction about fanfiction – hence The Authoress has broken her near-cardinal rule never to insert herself into a narrative. She's had brushes with Mary-Sues before, and, with all the inherent power that comes from being The Authoress, she is fully aware of how easy it is to put on the Mary-Sue mask and make an utter fool of herself. She has just finished trawling through a certain fanfiction archive's updates, and so has had very recent firsthand contact with such creatures. It is an ugly experience. Not that she needed the archive to tell her that. She has several Internal Characters who border on, and fall into the Mary-Sue, Gary-Lou trap. Slightly fewer in the latter, which is a whole other depression she won't go into right now.
The Authoress has noticed that she is not making much sense. Which is not unusual, but needs rectifying here, she feels.
Internal Characters have several names, the most common being shorthand 'OC'. They are usually residents of fanart and fanfiction, owing to the fact that they typically belong to one person, and have been created by said person for their own means. They can be for fan-related purposes, or even characters in original works that have not yet been made public. Their antithesis, External Characters, are the impetus behind fanfiction. They are the published, the televised, the silver-screen stars. They are the property of somebody else, and fans simply borrow and channel them when the desire to do so strikes. Disclaimers are the standard way of protection against the copyright laws that enshroud these External Characters, and The Authoress now realises that she does not have one at the top of this piece.
No matter. No External Characters have made an appearance yet, so she is safe for the moment, and can get on with her justifications for blathering on like this.
As she has already said, this is a fanfiction about fanfiction. It is meant to be an exploration into the world of aficionado that The Author routinely inhabits. It is meant to be interesting and question-provoking, but The Authoress has a sneaking suspicion that this is turning into one great big ego trip. So she is going to cut this first instalment short.
Or at least, she was until the phone started ringing.
She doesn't need to pick it up. Mental phone-lines work differently to corporeal, and so after the first shriek she listens to the voice that follows.
"You're confusing them," says Jean. Jean likes to call The Authoress out of the blue like this. She has a mischievous streak that people rarely acknowledge, but which The Authoress often gets treated to. She doesn't really know why Jean does this to her in particular. Perhaps it is because The Authoress is in the middle of writing a scene from her POV in another, unrelated fic. External Characters like to call when they know they're being written about, if only to give advice and counsel on where writers are going wrong with their characterisation. Sometimes they're not heeded, which ticks them off a bit.
Jean knows The Authoress listens, though. Which maybe why she doesn't bother with pleasantries when she calls.
"Fine," says The Authroess. The security guard is coming by, calling for time, and she sighs at Jean. "Should I wrap up?"
"You can't mix them up any more by stopping. Let them absorb, then come back and see if they have anything to say before you barrel in with guns blazing."
Jean's advice is generally good. That's one of the reasons many writers don't like scribing about her – she's too level-headed to be interesting.
"I heard that." Jean puts the phone down. External Characters hardly ever say goodbye.
The Authoress sighs again, and stretches her back, cracking a few vertebrae back into place. She'll take Jean's advice, just like she always does. Just like Jean knew she would.
Sometimes, when time runs out but inspiration doesn't, being The Authoress sucks harder than an industrial vacuum.