Silver Adept (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
silveradept) wrote2025-01-05 07:07 pm
silveradept) wrote2025-01-05 07:07 pm
Entry tags:
Snowflake Challenge 02025 #3: Destiny Prognostication Failures
Challenge #3 reminds us that in fandom, it is a firm belief that it is a mistake to hold firm beliefs.
There's many ways I envision this challenge going, and I suspect at least some of it will be of the same nature of confessing one's sins to a priest. It's a very Catholic ritual, but the point is that when you confess, you have to name at least one of those sins you seek absolution for. Finding something suitable that's not too grave or too embarrassing to admit aloud to another person (or the Internet) is an art form. The key there, though, is also that the absolution that comes from such a ritual is for those sins named and all the other sins that may have been committed, so you don't actually have to confess to everything to be forgiven for it. The same applies here: we grow, we change, we gain wisdom and tempering. Your previous self is forgivable and can be extended grace.
I expect that many of these posts well also be about wrong ideas that appealed to or younger selves, about believing that some part of the Discourse was the most important thing in the universe, and that with time and wisdom, recognizing that it wasn't, or that it was a thinly-veiled ship war of no real consequence. Some of them may be about having defended someone who turned out to be the monster they are accused of being, or of being a fan of someone's work despite (or in spite of) their turn to the Dark Side. Or having believed terrible things about someone that turned out to be untrue or fabricated. We may have written off a genre entirely, only to be introduced to a really good work in that genre and become a fan all the same.
I wonder how many of us will admit that we had strange ideas about fandom before seeing that it's a lot like other groups of people. (I had the idea in my head that transformative fandom was for flighty girls jonesing for M/M relationships that they could sigh dreamily at, for example.) Or how many of us are still embarrassed at the efforts of our younger selves and have either destroyed them or disassociated ourselves from them. (I wouldn't want to see my old material, created at the ripe age of ten, published on the Internet and subjected to the eyes of others, but I still recognize it as mine and as part of the journey and practice that made me a better writer and got me into the practice of putting words down regularly.) Or who might still be embarrassed that there are tropes they enjoy, despite the squick factor or general disapproval. Or situations they would enjoy defictionalizing and trying for themselves, but they believe there's nobody there who would actually do it, or they're far too embarrassed (of consider it sinful) to admit it in the sight or hearing of someone who could help bring it to reality.
I'm curious about how many of us will admit to still having the twinge that comes right before or right after posting about whether anyone will enjoy the work, or whether anyone will be rude or demeaning about it, and how much that eats/ate into the good feelings that came from the actual posting. (How many of us will admit that what we steadfastly described as "constructive criticism" lacked the actual "constructive" part and was solely critical? How many of us will admit that we enjoyed ripping into someone else's work and giving it the review it "deserved "?) How many of us will admit to the idea that even with plenty of praise for this and other pieces published, and the good comments received about how it impacted the reader, we still don't feel like any of our work is noteworthy, or even reaches the bar of "decent?"
None of these things are better or worse, more worthy or less worthy, more mortal or more venial. They're all fannish opinions, because most people are fans.
I'd also like to see some opinions like "I thought I would be done with this fandom in only a few months, and I'm still here after all these years." Or "I was ready to give this canon a pass, and then this fanwork reached out and grabbed me by the lapels and dragged me in." Because changing or opinions doesn't always have to be about fault, blame, or negativity. Sometimes we turn out to be wrong about something because it didn't present itself well, or the trailer made it out to be something that it definitely wasn't, or it was a thing meant for some other gender during the time in your life when people strongly cared about that thing, and now you can enjoy it without the possibility of internalized or external shame or worse. Or it's a thing that's supposedly meant for children, but knows full well that children watch with grownups and chooses to keep them entertained as well. (I learned so much about classical music pieces because they were set to animation.)
Personally, though, I can admit to having changed my mind about things.
There will still be some things that I change my mind on in the future, as well, and that will be okay.
In your own space, talk about a fannish opinion you hold that has changed over time. […]
Despite society's insistence otherwise, the beliefs and opinions that we hold about things change over time. We thought it was important that we reflect that (and perhaps laugh at our previously ill-considered opinions) with this challenge.
There's many ways I envision this challenge going, and I suspect at least some of it will be of the same nature of confessing one's sins to a priest. It's a very Catholic ritual, but the point is that when you confess, you have to name at least one of those sins you seek absolution for. Finding something suitable that's not too grave or too embarrassing to admit aloud to another person (or the Internet) is an art form. The key there, though, is also that the absolution that comes from such a ritual is for those sins named and all the other sins that may have been committed, so you don't actually have to confess to everything to be forgiven for it. The same applies here: we grow, we change, we gain wisdom and tempering. Your previous self is forgivable and can be extended grace.
I expect that many of these posts well also be about wrong ideas that appealed to or younger selves, about believing that some part of the Discourse was the most important thing in the universe, and that with time and wisdom, recognizing that it wasn't, or that it was a thinly-veiled ship war of no real consequence. Some of them may be about having defended someone who turned out to be the monster they are accused of being, or of being a fan of someone's work despite (or in spite of) their turn to the Dark Side. Or having believed terrible things about someone that turned out to be untrue or fabricated. We may have written off a genre entirely, only to be introduced to a really good work in that genre and become a fan all the same.
I wonder how many of us will admit that we had strange ideas about fandom before seeing that it's a lot like other groups of people. (I had the idea in my head that transformative fandom was for flighty girls jonesing for M/M relationships that they could sigh dreamily at, for example.) Or how many of us are still embarrassed at the efforts of our younger selves and have either destroyed them or disassociated ourselves from them. (I wouldn't want to see my old material, created at the ripe age of ten, published on the Internet and subjected to the eyes of others, but I still recognize it as mine and as part of the journey and practice that made me a better writer and got me into the practice of putting words down regularly.) Or who might still be embarrassed that there are tropes they enjoy, despite the squick factor or general disapproval. Or situations they would enjoy defictionalizing and trying for themselves, but they believe there's nobody there who would actually do it, or they're far too embarrassed (of consider it sinful) to admit it in the sight or hearing of someone who could help bring it to reality.
I'm curious about how many of us will admit to still having the twinge that comes right before or right after posting about whether anyone will enjoy the work, or whether anyone will be rude or demeaning about it, and how much that eats/ate into the good feelings that came from the actual posting. (How many of us will admit that what we steadfastly described as "constructive criticism" lacked the actual "constructive" part and was solely critical? How many of us will admit that we enjoyed ripping into someone else's work and giving it the review it "deserved "?) How many of us will admit to the idea that even with plenty of praise for this and other pieces published, and the good comments received about how it impacted the reader, we still don't feel like any of our work is noteworthy, or even reaches the bar of "decent?"
None of these things are better or worse, more worthy or less worthy, more mortal or more venial. They're all fannish opinions, because most people are fans.
I'd also like to see some opinions like "I thought I would be done with this fandom in only a few months, and I'm still here after all these years." Or "I was ready to give this canon a pass, and then this fanwork reached out and grabbed me by the lapels and dragged me in." Because changing or opinions doesn't always have to be about fault, blame, or negativity. Sometimes we turn out to be wrong about something because it didn't present itself well, or the trailer made it out to be something that it definitely wasn't, or it was a thing meant for some other gender during the time in your life when people strongly cared about that thing, and now you can enjoy it without the possibility of internalized or external shame or worse. Or it's a thing that's supposedly meant for children, but knows full well that children watch with grownups and chooses to keep them entertained as well. (I learned so much about classical music pieces because they were set to animation.)
Personally, though, I can admit to having changed my mind about things.
- I was definitely wrong about transformative fandom being primarily girls hankering for emotionally vulnerable and sexually explicit m/m relationships.
- I have come around to appreciating "kissing books" more, sufficiently so to have better reasons for flinging some of them across the room.
- It's not true that everyone will hate my works.
- It's also not true that I'll manage to somehow skirt the people who do hate my works and feel entitled to tell me so.
- Turns out Disney and Square-Enix can tell a story together.
- Diamond and Pearl Remake came out before Pokémon Drink Some Water.
- "Don't feed the trolls" is only part of what you need to have a vibrant and happy community, rather than all of it. At least some other part is "Ban/Block their asses from here to Mount Doom."
- I really had hoped that the phenomenon of the Bronies or, really, so many other situations where the periphery demographic was men and the target audience was kids or girls would result in greater latitude for men to express their emotions and not have to be jaded or looking for an excuse to like something. But I'm not feeling quite as optimistic about that any more.
There will still be some things that I change my mind on in the future, as well, and that will be okay.