They Still Matter · 11:40pm Oct 15th, 2022
I don't get very many comments on my stories, these days.
"No duh, Chris," you say. "You haven't published anything in nearly two years, and you aren't real good at the whole 'engagement' thing--at least, not when it comes to your own fics. Why would you expect a bunch of comments on old stories?"
Well, yeah! But that's kind of my point: I don't expect a bunch of comments on years-old fics that... well, let's just say that while I'm always floored by the number of people who read my stuff in absolute terms, nothing I ever put out made it "big" on the ponyfic scene. And since I'm not really active these days, and not out there promoting my stuff, why would it get comments, in this day and age? Why would anyone even remember any of it, unless they were specifically reminded that it existed? Even then, why would it get any stronger of a reaction than, "Oh yeah, I guess that was a thing?"
But last week, I got this comment:
To Make a Spark is a decade old. And here's someone who remembered it, unprompted, because of how it made him feel.
I'm not sharing this to talk about how great my story is, or because Alan made my ego swell. I mean, that was a touching comment to read, yes, but that's not why I'm putting it out in blog for all and sundry to see. I'm sharing it because the things we did matter. No matter how unimportant they may seem in retrospect; no matter how unimportant they may have seemed at the time.
They mattered then. And they still matter.
The things we say and do touch the people around us, whether we see that or not. And things that we assume everyone but us have long forgotten--things we might assume have faded into the mists of obscurity--can still resonate in others for all their lives. There are stories from this fandom that I know I'll never forget. Literally two days ago, I went back and re-read Pascoite's Dinkin' Doughnuts because (thanks to Paul's reviews) I remembered it, and remembered how sweet it was, and how sweet it made me feel. A few weeks ago, I re-read PhycoKrusk's Anypony for a Doomsday? when, of all things, a particularly hammy adoption plot in a movie I saw reminded me how funny that story was. And earlier this summer, I re-read ponichaeism's Rainbow Dash's Super-Awesome Self-Insert Figures Out If It Would Matter, because, with no prompting at all, I remembered how it took such a reactionary joke of a setup, and turned it into something that I absolutely adored.
And I still do adore it. And Doomsday still makes me laugh, and Doughnuts still warms my heart. If you asked any of those three authors whether they expected anyone would still care about three MLP fanfics that are all seven-ish years old, in a fandom which... well, "dying" is a strong word, but "contracting" is certainly fair, and has been true for years... and where many, probably most, of the people who originally read those stories aren't even slightly participating in the fandom these days... I expect they would all say "No."
But if so, they're wrong. I still care. About their stories, and dozens of others that I've read and enjoyed during my time here. And if I'm still holding onto those stories right now, I can't imagine I'll ever let them go.
So many stories from this community have touched me deeply. Not always in a deep way, but deeply. So many stories from this community have provoked a genuine emotional reaction from me, whether it was to laugh, or to cry, or to get so angry with a character that I started pacing around my living room in a huff as I read.
When there's a bit of distance between a creator and their inspiration, it's easy to dismiss what one's done. Those fanfics we put so much time into, back in the day--wasn't that silly? Wasn't that such a strange episode in our lives?
Well, yes. Yes it was. But also, yes it is. Because sometimes--not all too often, but also not all too rarely--when a story finds the right reader, it sticks. And once a story sticks, it has a funny way of staying stuck.
At those times, a story matters to the reader. And you, the author, might never know it; if Alan hadn't chosen to comment on To Make a Spark, I'd have had no idea that it had stuck with him like that. I'd have had no idea that it had stuck with anyone like that.
But it did. The things we put into the world don't stop mattering just because we move on. The things you put into the world won't stop mattering, even when this site is gone and you've long since moved on to other interests. Even if you never discover who, or how, or why, please know:
They mattered then. And they still matter.
Well said.
One day, I'll probably part ways entirely from this site, but I don't think I'll ever forget the fun I had being here. Ten plus years is nothing to scoff at. I may even download a few choice stories if I ever get wind that the site is permanently going away.
But today is not that day! I still get enjoyment out of going through the backlog or checking to see if something new catches my eye. Perhaps I'll even find that one story that matters most.
Wonderfully said. It’s precisely for this reason that, though I’ve distanced myself from a lot of the sub-par fiction and content I’ve made online in years past, I’ll never outright remove it, just in case any of it has touched, affected or moved someone as you describe.
While I think I’ve reached a point in my consumption of media, fanfic or otherwise, where I’m far less likely to have one affect me that deeply and leave that big a mark, it still does happen, and with the Ponyfic of which this is true, I hold them deep much as Alan has above.
So, yes – everything we put out there does matter, then and now, even if it seems like it didn’t or doesn’t.
Whenever I think of funny stories or epistolary stories, or, God forbid, the convergence of the two, "The Play's the Thing" is one of the first stories that comes to mind. Brilliantly played, pun intended.
It's always flattering to get that years-later comment on a reread.
One of my stories prevented a suicide.
And there have surely been other people I've touched who haven't commented, who haven't told me what one of my stories meant to them, whether it was one that helped them get through a dark place or always gives them a laugh; whether it's something that might have cemented a favorite character or inspired them to write. I can't know if writing a bisexual main character made somebody more comfortable with their own bisexuality.
In some ways, we've got it better than authors of old; we can get feedback on our stories from anybody who cares to write a comment or a PM, and we can build relationships and friendships in a way that traditional authors can't do as easily.
I remember some years ago when my mom mentioned that a kid who'd been in my Boy Scout Troop said something about how I was a positive influence on him, and I had to scratch my head and wonder why. And a high school classmate who was really excited to see me at the class reunion, 'cause she'd cleaned up her act, gone to college, and gotten a good job . . . not sure what I'd said or done that inspired that, to be honest.
It's kind of crazy to think about, to consider how much of an effect a few words can have.
mmm
yeah, that hits right here
this is why I haven't packed in the reviews or just started concentrating on new stuff, the old ones still have purpose :)
5692670
Or sometimes just simply being. I'm a two-time heart transplant patient (along with much more, but that's irrelevant), and when I had still only had one—I think I was maybe 14?—one of my older brother's friends got into a fatal motorcycle accident. His parents then told my family that they decided to donate his organs because they knew someone who actually had been saved by an organ donor (me, if that wasn't obvious). So simply by being part of the community (and I guess having something bad happen to me), I possibly saved eight lives.
Oh yeah. Almost two decades ago I wrote a (not amazingly good) fic in another fandom that I don't have a lot to do with now. Just the other month I got a PM on here from someone who had read that story all those years ago. As far as I know it didn't change their lives or anything, but it had stuck with them all that time. It really floored me, in a good way.
Agreed! I'm not a writer, but what you wrote here reflect my feelings as well.
Also, your stories are lovely.
This is very much an age of disposable digital media, dumped in archive obscurity. In the majority of cases, you keep up or you get left behind fast: in a matter of hours, days, or weeks. There's a pit of forgetfulness here, just like anywhere else. That's the majority situation.
Besides, toxins stick too. No one said old stuff had to be a good thing: just look at the rubbish the fandom's had to put up with over the years.
Well said
True works stand the test of time.