Adieu—Farewell—Valete—Пока · 6:26pm Feb 2nd, 2018
I have just published the final chapter of PRAT. PRAT is finished, and if the handful or so of you who read it from start to finish did not feel as if your time had been wasted in so doing, then I consider the story a success.
I previously lamented the long publication time of Subjunctive, yet PRAT, despite being shorter and less serious, than . . . no, on second thought, I take that back. It’s a My Little Pony fan fiction, for Christ’s sake; if you take it seriously, something has already gone wrong. Anyway, I could say that writing it took so long because a few months after beginning it I acquired a full time job (which I still have today—amazing!) and my free time has been limited, but that wouldn’t be the whole truth: the whole truth is that I quickly lost interest in the project. When it was rejected from EQD, I felt no need to edit it to their satisfaction; in fact, my usual assiduity in editing faltered: I didn’t use an editor for the entire writing process, and after Chapter V I didn’t proofread it three times as I usually did, but only once. If there is a decline in the quality of writing in the later chapters, I ascribe it to my wanting to get the chapters out as soon as possible, to get the damn thing done and over with. And now it is.
I’m writing this to say that with the conclusion of PRAT, my fan fiction writing career also sees its conclusion. I’m growing up now.
When I say “I’m growing up,” this should not be construed as some sort of supercilious dismissal of fan fiction. On the contrary, fan fiction is wonderful. It’s an easy, noncommittal way to get started with writing: one is compelled to work with already established, real characters, in an already established universe, and through the feedback of others already familiar with the characters and the universe, one learns to identify the defining properties of a world, the essential characteristics of a story, and the essence of characters. Often, it’s immediately obvious that someone got a character wrong: Discord wouldn’t be so empathetic as you’ve depicted him, Rainbow Dash wouldn’t have been so generous as you’ve assumed, etc, which signifies to the aspiring writer that he failed to identify what makes the character so and, therefore, was unable to recreate him. Or maybe it’s not obvious why the character is wrong: maybe it’s not possible to articulate why, but there seems something “off” about Rarity, which signifies that though the writer has properly identified her most salient features, he has failed to recognize one of her non-obvious properties. Only once the writer has gotten the basics right—which is the proper identification of the essence of characters, plot, and world—can he even begin to show the novelty every good piece of writing requires, and through the easy feedback of fan fiction readers and writers, i.e., people who are interested in studying the world and characters, he’s able to hone his understanding.
Fan fictions are bad: mine are bad, yours are bad, they’re all bad. And that’s good! Every bad fan fiction is due to mistakes, and a diligent writer will learn from them and will not make them again. Of course, because it's possible, with the internet, to create echo chambers, to ignore and dismiss as frivolous any dissent, there are those that will never grow, but that's fine; the vast, vast majority of the time, fan fiction is all they will ever do (or maybe not, in which case they get stupidly rich writing Fifty Shades of Grey, in which case they've clearly figured out something I haven't).
Having written a quarter of a million horse words or so, I think I’m ready for writing for real. I put down a real human novel, already at a hundred and twenty thousand words, for the sake of writing PRAT. I don’t regret doing so: the year I had off from this novel allowed me to do some thinking about it. Before I started PRAT, writing started to get slow; I was started to get uninterested. I’ve now identified possible sources of error, and possible areas for improvement. I don’t regret taking a break—but I know I would regret not getting back to it for fan fiction.
My interest in the show has also waned considerably. I haven’t watched the movie yet, much less most of Season 7. I find the show stale. I would’ve been perfectly content had the show ended at the end of Season 3; it seemed like the logical conclusion of the story.
I can’t muster the will to go back and look at my old stories: PRAT is the only thing, at least for now, that I can stand to reread. To think I spent so much time creating pyrite, convincing myself that it was pure gold . . . but, there again, is another welcome sign that I’m growing, for the proper attitude for any writer is to think himself infallible while writing and to think himself a fraud when done; it means that he knows he has to improve, but is confident in his own ability to learn and correct his mistakes.
I published my first story when I was eighteen. I’m twenty-four now. So much has happened to me; eighteen-year-old me is nowhere near the same person as me now. And I can say with confidence that every part of me is better now than before and I’m glad for the change. I expect to do a lot more changing, and I’m almost certain that twenty years from now, I’ll think the novel that I’m currently writing and which is almost done is complete garbage.
To those who followed me for six years, who gave me the feedback I desperately needed, I thank you. Your comments, your views, kept me on the right track. Thank you for your time. Thank you for your words, both the kind and not so kind. If you’d like to reach me for whatever reason, I may still check in occasionally to read comments and private messages.
Farewell!
Integral Archer
No.