I was seven when I first started writing, 11 when I discovered that written stories could exist outside of a physical format, and 13 when I received my first hate comment on a self-published fanfiction story. It was a Harry Potter story, one with atrocious grammar and humiliating continuity errors, but it was still my story.
The website to which I’d posted my story was riddled with ads and bugs, and I distinctly remember having to refresh the tab multiple times to be able to even view the feedback that the commenter had left me. Receiving hate is an experience that every fanfiction writer experiences at least once. Why wouldn’t it happen? We write our stories based on worlds that other artists have created and therefore have many expectations to fulfill: consistency, an avoidance of OOC (out of character) writing untrue to the original creator’s, and regularly updating for new chapters, to name a few.
If you’re not careful, contributing to fandom can feel like a full-time job, and that is exactly what it shouldn’t be. Creating fanwork is an opportunity to become a part of a community, to escape reality and dive into creativity and imagination, and to meet people on the internet in a way that wasn’t possible years ago. Despite the difficulties I faced in joining these online communities, fandom participation also gave me something that I desperately needed: a sense of belonging.
I moved from Vancouver to Toronto when I was 12, and as someone who was too shy and anxious to approach new people, I struggled to create meaningful relationships. It’s no wonder that I felt a huge sense of relief when I found myself able to fit into an online community. It was also relieving to know that online, no one knew who I was. I was just another writer with an embarrassing username.
I wrote on fanfiction.net until I was 14, a clunky website with the most advanced feature being a private messaging (PM) option. At first glance, the PM function caught my eye, but to my disappointment, I quickly discovered that most people used it solely for the purpose of sending requests for a specific story they wanted written. There wasn’t much opportunity for conversation when the only interaction was “Can you write XYZ for me?” It wasn’t surprising that I moved on to a different website soon thereafter in order to search for what I really craved.
Using multiple online platforms to post my written work has taught me that every fandom website has a different etiquette. On fanfiction.net, people are blunt and curt—or sometimes honest to a point that’s a little too much to handle. In contrast, on Archive of Our Own (AO3), writers are given ample opportunities to communicate and connect with one another.
Despite the fact that AO3 lacks a private messaging option, writers can communicate with readers in several ways. For instance, AO3 tags are incredibly flexible, to the point that they’re often used for humorous intent rather than being restricted to the content of the story. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t ever used a humorous tag for my story, such as “no beta we die like men” (‘beta’ meaning ‘proofreader’). The comments sections on AO3 are generally filled with praise and affection for the writer, if not particularly ecstatic and incomprehensible descriptions of the commenter’s uncontainable excitement upon reading the story. Having regular commenters is yet another way I was able to feel that I belonged. I know that all fanfiction writers will agree with me when I say that seeing a familiar username in the comments on our stories brings us nothing short of joy.
Like many other writers in my fandom, I also migrated to Tumblr while writing on AO3. Tumblr is the most lax platform I’ve ever used in terms of etiquette, because there is no such thing as etiquette there. Tumblr is nothing but pure chaos. Amidst all the mayhem is where I met some of my closest friends, people whom I’ve now known for years. Over the years, we’ve racked up inside jokes as graphically obscure as “oh the power of the vulva” or constant affectionate marriage proposals that may or may not have been serious.
Amongst all the joking and teasing, making friends in fandom has been life-changing for me. Without my online friends, I wouldn’t have been able to discover parts of myself that I now consider integral to who I am. Interacting with these friends gave me the opportunity to experiment with my identity in a safe space. Witnessing other people who experience the same struggles and triumphs as myself has done wonders for my self-efficacy and faith in myself. Whether it was stress from schoolwork or events in my personal life, my online friends, most of whom are a few years older than me, have helped me through it.
High school, particularly senior year, was the hardest year for me, as I plunged into a situation that reminded me all too well of the six months I spent friendless when I first moved to Toronto. And through it all, standing by my side, were my fandom friends, unrelentingly loyal and supportive. In a way, my fandom friends have acted like a guidebook in my life—if I had to give it a name, it would probably be called “How to Adult For Dummies: Advice from Older Fandom Friends who are also a Mess (affectionate).”
My friends and I lovingly refer to Tumblr as our “hellsite.” In fact, this is the general consensus of all content creators on Tumblr, and even the App Store has “hellsite (affectionate)” underneath the app’s icon. It is a term of endearment for the platform to which we dedicate so much of ourselves. There’s no mistaking that Tumblr could be improved. Sometimes, it feels like there’s a new glitch everyday, and it certainly does no favours for writers with its clunky tagging system, a sharp contrast to AO3. You might ask, “If it’s such a crappy site, why keep using it?” to which I would respond, just as we agree that we (affectionately) hate the platform, we would all say the same thing: because it’s our haven.
And yet, sometimes the safe little world and happy friendships we’ve built together can be limited—even threatened—by the distance between us. Too many times I have heard the words, “They can’t really be your friends if you don’t see them in-person,” or even “Meeting up with them in real life wouldn’t be fun because you don’t really know them.” To be told that the people I’ve trusted and opened up to for years are not valuable because I don’t see them everyday is invalidating. The growing use of social media has granted us all the opportunity to gain access to parts of the world that were previously unknown to us. In fact, most communication happens through texting or calling now, regardless of whether the friendship is online or in-person. So why was a part of me afraid that those words carried some truth?
I worried that I only managed to have these friends because we were restricted to online interactions like texting and the occasional FaceTime call. What if it really was awkward if we ever met up in real life? What if my fandom friends decided that I wasn’t as fun to spend time with in-person? I won’t deny that I have a different persona in my online life—I’m a lot more confident, chaotic, and maybe even a little flirty. But in-person? I’m more quiet and reserved, and the fear that I come off as unapproachable to others only adds to my introverted behaviour.
Still, my friends and I have faced so much common criticism that I think it would be impossible to abandon each other: “How can you really be a writer if all you write is fanfiction?” “Fanfiction is just for girls who like to daydream about hot guys.” “Fanfiction writers are pre-teens who don’t know any better.” But the truth is, there is no limit as to who can join a fandom. I’ve met someone who was 60 years old in my fandom, and he wrote fantastic stories. I’ve met people my age, and I’ve met people younger. Fanfiction is a way to transgress social boundaries in order to find people who have similar interests.
These common grounds can lead to other valuable acts of friendship, too; for example, I’ve been penpalling with my fandom friends for two years. We send each other packages for each other’s birthdays, and prepare fun letters for the holiday season. Even when there’s not a special occasion, we’ll surprise each other with meaningful trinkets in the mail, like a handmade journal, a crystal necklace, stickers, or “this or that” games. These packages not only act as a representation of our close bond, but also disprove the idea that online friendships aren’t “real friendships.” It is not the act of meeting each other in-person every day that strengthens a bond, but the act of loving each other across borders.
A year ago, I would have never felt comfortable even mentioning my online life because of how “lame” I felt my hobbies were. But now I know that there is nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about, because this is my home and my family.
At the end of the day, it is not a physical place that gives us a home, but the people that we surround ourselves with. And sometimes, miracles happen, like cheap plane tickets during winter break and the promise to hug each other in-person (yes, it’s happening!)—an evolution from sending virtual hugs to each other through gifs.
