Fun with Fandoms

The website Archive of Our Own – or AO3 to its users – has existed since 2008, growing in popularity over the next few years. Writers can use it to post fan fiction, taking characters that already exist from books, films or even real life, then placing them into new stories or retelling existing stories from another angle.

Despite knowing about the site since almost day one, I didn’t open an account because I only used it to read the stories of one pal who would use characters from Star Wars.

More recently, it’s been brought to my attention that another pal writes and collaborates on steamy romances between two male Formula One drivers, so I finally opened an account in September to read them. Then, quite independently, I learnt someone else had published a multi-part tale placing the members of a 21st-century alternative rock band into a 1930s adventure story.

I’m being deliberately imprecise in these descriptions because all three writers use pseudonyms and don’t necessarily want their identities associated with their pseudonyms.

It’s common for fan fiction authors to stay anonymous, as some published authors actively dislike their characters being used in other work, even when the resulting work isn’t earning any money. Anne Rice and George R R Martin are two prominent examples. In other cases, there is potential for libel where living people are featured.

While mere threats of legal action are a dime a dozen, I can think of just one case involving fan fiction that actually went to court. In 2009, Darryn Walker was arrested on charges of obscenity after writing a story imagining the kidnap and murder of the pop group Girls Aloud. Ultimately, the author was cleared of all charges. If you’re interested, the offending text has been archived.

Although I’ve published many short stories online, they all featured original characters rather than existing ones. I think if I were going to write any fan fiction, I’d probably pick Rosaline from Romeo & Juliet. For starters, there’s no risk of legal action from William Shakespeare. For seconds, she’s a seriously underdeveloped character considering how pivotal she is to the early plot; if she hadn’t rejected Romeo, the events of the entire play might never have happened.

Start a Story Late, Finish it Early

Every so often, a pal and I run a readathon where we invite members to set aside some time one weekend to catch up on reading. It last took place a couple of weekends ago, and I intended to make some progress with War & Peace.

However much I wanted to read, though, I kept putting it aside because I wanted to write. I can’t think of the last time I had such an urge to pick up a pen. I was continuing a fantasy series under a pseudonym on a well-known website. It’s a passion project and I can’t foresee a time where I wish to claim ownership, so references to the plot will be vague.

The classic wisdom for writing a story, and especially a play, is to start late and leave early. The aim is to hook the reader by going straight into the drama rather than explaning the backstory, which can be done once said drama is established.

Stories will sometimes will arrive fully-formed, and these are a joy to write. In the most recent parts, I’ve had a strong idea of where the charcters should be, yet I’ve struggled with how to place them there while maintaning the pace of the story.

Despite its genre, this series still has one foot in the recognisable world. In the most recent part, I needed four characters to end up in a riverside cottage and I tried to build up a sense of drama before they even arrived.

The first draft saw their trains delayed because of industral action and bad weather, so there was a sense of relief upon arrival. Another draft saw them arrive early, only to be told by the grumpy cottage owner they couldn’t enter for another two hours.

Because fiction is so subjective and personal, it’s difficult to teach someone how to spot where the action should begin. When you’ve been doing it for a while, though, you develop a sense of where it fits best.

As I continued, I realised the real drama would happen at the cottage, so I didn’t need to create any more on the journey and I began the story at the time of their arrival. By contrast, if I’d needed to convey any backstory to the reader, having the characters stuck on a train chatting about previous events might have been the ideal way to do it.

Poetry Connections and Train Connections

Although it happened too late to write up in this blog, I was at the Inn Deep bar in Glasgow last Tuesday for the launch of The SpecBook 2024. One of my poems had been published by – as the name suggests – Speculative Books.

Copies of the collection had been sent out to contributors, but as mine was lost in the post, I collected one there. What I didn’t realise is that there are actually two small volumes. It was great to see my name in print other than in poetry group pamphlets.

Part one of the schedule was devoted to the published readers, so the first section lasted for a long while. The audience were reminded to support rather than heckle, which is exactly what I would say.

Part two was given over to an open-mic, where anyone could read a poem, whether they were in the book or not. I even met someone I knew from my former open-mic, but I wasn’t able to stay long enough to hear her work.

That was because I’d never visited Inn Deep before and I’d booked my travel cautiously. I’d allowed plenty of time between connections, going from one coast of Scotland to the other. As it happens, this worked out so well that I was home an hour earlier than expected.

Site Stats for Gavin Cameron

A couple of weeks ago, I talked about dipping back into an older blog. Further to this, WordPress sends me an email every month about my site statistics, displaying the number of visitiors, views, likes and comments received, along with an indication of changes from the previous month.

The most recent one, received yesterday, showed that November brought 144 views from 131 visitors, who left 17 likes.

I don’t typically monitor such statistics – if I look at them at all – but that’s a decent ratio, even if all the figures were all down from October. There were also no comments, but this page tends not to attact them and I’m happy enough with that.

The core purpose of this blog is to give me a reason to write every week, and it’s served that purpose for 11 years now. Whether anyone actually reads it is a side-issue.

What I do hope people will read is The SpecBook 2024, published by Speculative Books, as I have a poem included there. The launch was supposed to be in Glasgow in September but was cancelled due to illness.

So let’s hope tonight’s rescheduled launch goes ahead as planned, and I’ll report back next week on how it went.

Background Noise

Whenever I’m starting a longer writing session, I like to play some music in background. Over time, my playlist of choice has changed.

It was initially the soundtrack of the film The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, composed by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis. Since that lasted only around 45 minutes, I bulked up the playlist to just over an over with more Nick Cave songs.

More recently, I’ve switched to a musician called Jason Lewis, although I can’t recall when I first discovered his work. Since 2006, he’s produced three-hour mixes with isochronic tones. These are regular repetitions of a single tone mixed into rapid beats, which are supposed to enhance concentration.

From what I can gather, there’s no scientific basis for this, but I find his mixes work for me. They’re completely instrumental, allowing me to focus on writing, and free to access on YouTube.

The only real difference between the soundtrack and the Jason Lewis music is the familiarity. With Cave and Ellis, I would hear exactly the same songs in the same order and know roughly where in the playlist I was. With Jason Lewis, by contrast, I tend to listen to either the most recent mix or choose one that matches the mood of my piece.

Of course, I’m completing this entry at my regular Tuesday writing group, which comprises whatever the bar decides to play. It can be a strange mixture of pop, metal, easy listening, dance or rap, with no apparant pattern. Tonight is a reasonable mix, featuring Elton John and Kiki Dee with Don’t Go Breaking My Heart right now.

Staying Away From My Usual Groups

Long-term readers will know that after nine years, I decided to stop hosting my open mic night Hotchpotch.

I’m far from the first host, but the previous handovers were typically haphazard. That didn’t matter so much when our events were smaller and more intimate affairs. As we now boast our largest-ever following, we needed a few months to make the handover go smoothly. That period has now elapsed, so I stayed away from last Wednesday’s event to emphasise this clean break.

That evening, I instead took the opportunity to attend an indoor labyrinth walk that clashes with Hotchpotch. It’s entirely a coincidence, as our schedules are independent of each other.

You don’t need to be religious or spiritual to go along. The organiser brings a massive canvas with the labyrinth pattern, setting up candles and relaxing music to generate the atmosphere. While I was still geographically close enough to help out with the open mic if it was absolutely necessary, the walk offered a distraction. By all accounts, however, the event went well.

I also missed my weekly Tuesday writing group, called What’s Your Story, but for different reasons.

My poetry circle, the Wyverns, produces a pamphlet every year in conjunction with the University of Dundee. The launch event was supposed to be on a different day, but there was an unexpected double booking that was – fortunately – spotted weeks in advance.

Our theme this year was the George Orwell novel 1984, marking the 75th year since its publication. Because the author died barely a year later, this has also led to the book entering the public domain, at least in the UK and the EU, which gave us considerable artistic freedom. My contribution was titled 1985 and imagined how the totalitarian regime might end, based on the real-life Jasmine Revolution of Tunisia, starting in 2010.

I’ll definitely be back at What’s Your Story tonight. I’ll probably also be back at Hotchpotch next month, but strictly as a punter rather than a host.

Subject Matters

I learnt yesterday that Jamie Oliver has withdrawn his children’s novel Billy and the Epic Escape over accusations that it stereotyped Indigenous Australians. It had already been on sale for six months.

As the backlash dies down, it’s being quickly replaced by puzzlement. If this book had been written by a previously-unknown author and released by a small press, it’s easier to see how this might have happened.

But this is one of the country’s best-known celebrity chefs contracted to one of the five largest publishers in the world, namely Penguin Random House. The manuscript will have been seen by countless pairs of eyes before the first copy was even printed. Each would have looked at a specific element such as grammar or typesetting, and that would typically include some consultation with the community it portrays. The story is also widely believed to have been ghostwritten, adding another possible layer to the checking process. We’re unlikely to find out who this is. It’s almost always a contractual requirement that the identity of a ghostwriter is not revealed.

Still, this book somehow slipped through the net, and the reason might never be known. I’m only conjecturing here, but it’s possible that everyone involved assumed someone else was dealing with the matter, or maybe any concerns didn’t reach more senior ears.

It must be stated that there’s nothing wrong per se with authors writing outside their own experience, but it’s vital to have an insider’s perspective. When Frederick Forsyth wrote The Day of the Jackal, a fictionalised background to a real assassination attempt on Charles de Gaulle, he used his background in investigative journalism to construct his plot. It shows in the precision of the language and imagery, even if I personally think he could have deployed a few more commas.

Regardless of whether it’s done for well-justified reasons, banning or withdrawing a work is often the best promotion it can receive. I wasn’t aware of Billy and the Epic Escape before this news broke, nor about Oliver’s most recent cookbook, which is also on sale and has attracted no controversy.

At the time of writing, it’s still possible to bag a copy of the novel from Amazon UK, and you can bet the remaining stock will sell out soon.

Flight and Fright

This morning, I attended a talk by Professor Angus Wallace. His name might not be immediately recognisable, but you’re likely familiar with his story. In 1995, he treated a passenger with a collapsed lung using improvised surgical equipment on a flight from Hong Kong to London.

Judging by the number of slides skipped, he probably brought twice as much material as he needed for the hour-long slot. The mid-air incident formed only a part of his speech, with the rest devoted to his many inventions in shoulder surgery and his later career as an advisor in major air and rail accident investigations.

All this could be a terribly dry subject, but the professor knew his audience was from a non-medical background. Any medical terminology was kept to a minimum or explained in simpler terms, and the whole structure of the presentation kept the audience engaged.

I suspect his rhetoric skill was developed through necessity. One of his earliest inventions was a tool for ingrown toenails which reportedly worked well, but was not marketed properly, so few people knew of its existence. From that point, he was sure to amplify his ideas more forcefully.

Quite by coincidence, I’ve been thinking more about my longstanding desire to start a group dedicated to helping people to overcome stage fright. I can tell you there are writers out there with some top ideas that will never make it onto a stage because they have no motive, whereas Professor Wallace did it as part of his job.

Just yesterday, I received an email from a local organiser, who brought to my attention that I’d been mentioned in an interview between two mutual pals. I started to compose a two-sentence reply, which quickly turned into several paragraphs outlining how I’d like this proposed group to look.

I have some definite ideas, such as aiming it at members who aren’t yet ready for more formal organisations like Toastmasters International. But there are many details that need input or experimentation. This organiser probably opened my reply this morning and thought What is this wall of text all about?

By writing about this proposal in such a public forum as this blog, and by speaking to the right folks, I hope to make it a reality and to help more people face their fear of the stage.

Cycling Around

On Thursday, realising I had a free evening, I took the opportunity to see some performance art. This was hosted by my pal Luke ‘Luca’ Cockayne, who was reading a series of autobiographical pieces over the span of 12 hours. I only had time to see around two hours.

I don’t want to focus on the performance itself, particularly because the aftermath is still on for the next five days. Rather, I want to look at something I did during that performance.

One of the organisers handed out pens and paper to the tiny audience with the intention that we could draw if we felt inspired. Much as Luca has tried to teach me some art, I’m still far more inclined to write by default.

I enjoy the challenge of improvising poetry on the spot, so my rough plan was to compose a rough version based on the performance I could see in front of me, and then extract a polished version from that. Yet after writing my so-called polished version, I felt it didn’t quite work, so I tried another.

I ultimately ended up with a total of seven poems. Put together, they form a cycle of sorts, each of which approaches what I want to say without being able to cut to the heart of the matter.

I feel there are diamonds to be dug out of the mess here, so I’m going to keep these drafts for the moment until I find some sort of home for them.

Dungeons & Diaries

Since just before the pandemic, I’ve been involved in at least one Dungeons & Dragons (D&D) game. I’m currently in two: one every fortnight in Dundee, and another every six to eight weeks in Fife.

For those unfamiliar, D&D is a tabletop role-playing game where players create and improvise adventures, guided by the Dungeon Master (DM). Players describe what they want their characters to do, and the DM narrates the outcomes based on dice rolls and the game’s rules. The setting is usually a fantasy land where weapons can be wielded and spells can be cast.

Every D&D game is unique. In my case, the Dundee players are all in the same writing group and live in the same general area. As such, we know each other well and sessions tend to be filled with in-jokes. By contrast, the Fife players generally need to travel and won’t see each other from one week to the next. We make the most of our time with longer and more intense sessions than the Dundee game.

One of the few factors that unites both games is that I’ve volunteered to be the designated note-taker. I’ve long been able to touch-type, so I can keep an eye on the action at the same time.

But why is this important? The simple answer is: there’s a lot going on. It’s not necessary to capture every detail, but because campaigns can span multiple sessions, it’s easy to lose track of key names, plot points and locations.

It must also be stated that my notes are still predominantly from my character’s perspective, so I can’t stress enough that the other players should keep additional personal notes. For instance, while tidying up the Fife notes yesterday, I realised one character had encountered two others in a room we entered, but I hadn’t recorded what happened to them during or after that interaction.

It sounds like tedious admin, but I enjoy this process as it helps me out enormously with co-ordinating the two games.