II. A Brief History of Fan Works
Adaptations as “fan works” throughout history
“Fan”-written works connecting to existing media are not a new phenomenon. Plenty of literature and classical music is based on Greek mythology (or its Roman equivalent) – in fact, the very genre of opera is widely understood as coming out of a desire to “reawaken” the classic Greek tragedy. We have an entire music history of operatic adaptations of Greek mythology, beginning with Claudio Monteverdi’s Orfeo in 1607 or Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s early Singspiel Apollo et Hyacinthus to Igor Stravinsky’s Oedipus Rex all the way to Philipp Glass (Orphée) and the recently deceased Harrison Birtwistle (The Mask of Orpheus, The Minotaur). Composers and librettists retell these stories, highlight different aspects of the characters of mythology that have been stylised into archetypes. The aspects that they highlight will tell us about the Zeitgeist as well as the artists’ relationship with themselves through the material. One of the most notable examples of this is maybe Beethoven’s Die Geschöpfe des Prometheus.
Before Miguel Cervantes was able to finish his sequel to Don Quixote (1605), there was already a piece of literature based upon his work and character written by Alonso Fernández de Avellaneda. Cervantes responded to the publication by referencing this “false sequel” in his own sequel, published in 1615. The 19th century’s favourite works to base fan-written stories on were Jane Austen’s collected works and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes series, both of them still enjoying “adaptations” today with Amy Heckerling’s 1995 movie Clueless based on Jane Austen’s novel Emma and Steven Moffat’s BBC series Sherlock (2010-2017), to name only one example for each. The list of official adaptations of, and spins on, existing material is endless. But whilst in these more official and public spaces, permissions must be acquired and copyright as well as authorship observed, there are many spaces online where people base their stories on existing characters and universes without observing these legal situations. And because there are no revenue streams and authors work for the love of it, no one asks them to do so.
When I interviewed my colleague, British-Filipine composer Zygmund de Somogyi for this paper, they argued that a lot of opera could already count as fan fiction. What they meant were the many adaptations of Greek myths or existing literary works into a libretto, a few of which I mentioned two paragraphs earlier. Whilst it is true that the creators of these works adapt existing materials, what I mean when I think of fan fiction, is what Avellanda did with Don Quixote. Instead of adapting existing material and putting his own spin on it, he used its characters and made something new. As noted, adaptations and retellings of these stories still happen today, also by composers who don’t necessarily see themselves reflected in the story. The number of composers who set bible texts or stories for sacred choral works, despite not being religious, is endless. Some of us default to historic events, when it comes to searching for material for an opera. Historically, this makes sense, because it’s what’s been happening in classical music throughout our history. There are many retellings of Orpheus and Euridice, countless settings of Dies Irae and My soul doth magnify the Lord. But to the outsider who doesn’t move in Western classical music circles and who is unaware of these historical traditions, the texts mean little to nothing and reflecting themselves through them makes no sense without the context. One could argue that there is an insider language of choosing themes and materials in Western art music that demands a knowledge of the canon in order to satisfyingly engage with it as a member of an audience. A piece of fan fiction, however, would maybe leave the characters or character concepts the same but spin a new narrative, maybe from the perspective of someone that isn’t already accommodated in the original narrative.
A brief history of fan fiction
Fan fiction culture, and especially queer fan fiction culture as we know it today is said to have its origin in the science fiction community, more specifically the fandom around Star Trek – The Original Series (1966). The subgenre that is slash (i.e. homoerotic narratives between predominantly male characters) has its origin in the following around romantic plots between Captain James T Kirk and Mr. Spock of the starship Enterprise. We’re back in the 1960’s now, pre-internet, that is, and these stories are written for and distributed in Star Trek Fanzines. People print them privately, distribute and buy them at conventions or movie screenings. Distributing and consuming Slash was not without its risk: “(…) Slash inhabited a marginal and outlaw status for many years. Fearing Public humiliation, litigation, or even arrest – particularly in England, where slash violated obscenity laws – slash stories were confined to small communities and circulated through APAs and a variety of zines. Then came the internet.”
The curious thing is that most of these stories were, and still are today, written not by gay men, but predominantly by women of any orientation. Theories on why this is the case vary from women dreaming themselves into equal relationships of mind, body and soul, male characters being simply deeper, more well-rounded in their writing whereas female characters especially from this era weren’t really written like human beings to the suggestion that if straight men enjoy the fantasy of two women getting it on, it must be the other way around for straight women. The motives probably vary per individual, but it is understandable that a narrative overruling of gender norms and views on women as well as a wish for being loved as the person you are rather than to fulfil a norm or role was part of the intention.
The arrival of the internet brought with it a wider dimension of distribution of fan-written and otherwise -created materials. Platforms like fanfiction.net and wattpad began to be populated by a myriad of works with people not just writing together and for each other but also sharing discussions over their favourite media – books, movies, TV shows and even real people, such as actors or music stars. Meeting people from all over the world engaged in the same material creates a powerful sense of belonging, especially for people who can’t find connection on aspects of their lives in their direct environment. “The discursive nature of fandom permits fans to connect with others like themselves despite geographic distance.”
Today, the community is a melting pot of queer people of all genders and orientations, women, people with disabilities and people of colour, all writing fairytales for themselves and each other because we’re still not getting them in the mainstream media. Sensitive and nuanced representation is rare, and most of the characters we can identify with, are killed off with varying degrees of brutality or are the villains of the story. Fandom is also a space where professional skills are acquired. A number of participants in these spaces learn skills such as creative writing, research, programming, editing, drawing or various software skills. As Rebecca Tushnet and Betsy Rosenblatt write: “This chapter draws principally on fans’ responses to a call by the US-based non-profit Organization for Transformative Works (OTW) for personal accounts of how creating fan works has influenced fans’ lives. The responses indicated that fandom and fan work creation provide unique opportunities for young women and girls to develop selfhood, emotional maturity, and professional skills.”
This is underlined by Dr. Una McCormack, who started out as a fanfiction writer from the age of 10 and can now, in her early 50s look back on a successful career as an author, spanning over 50 novels in several franchises such as Star Trek and Doctor Who, including authorship of the autobiography of Mr. Spock. She praises her time as an obscure fanfiction writer as her true grad-school experience: “I was doing my PhD. But this (writing fanfiction and getting peer feedback online) felt like my grad school. This was where people went, have you read this? You need to think about this. And no, no, no, don't say things like that. That's bullshit. So you were basically part of a place that also shaped your writing a lot in terms of like advice and feedback.”
In her article The Importance of Fan Fiction for Her Campus, student writer Jenny Yau writes:
She, I and so many others, experienced this creative online niche culture as an alternative safe space where we could be and learn. With projects like Serenoid, I’m not just calling for alternative narratives but also attempting to recreate the positive and collaborative environment that I found in these online spaces, not just for myself but for everyone. I firmly believe that this translates into the work being more attractive to the kind of communities that I want to speak to.