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fan fiction

[QUOTE] From An Archive of Their Own: A Case Study of Feminist HCI and Values in Design | Casey Fiesler, Shannon Morrison, and Amy S. Bruckman

Rarely are computing systems developed entirely by members of the communities they serve, particularly when that community is underrepresented in computing. Archive of Our Own (AO3), a fan fiction archive with nearly 750,000 users and over 2 million individual works, was designed and coded primarily by women to meet the needs of the online fandom community. Their design decisions were informed by existing values and norms around issues such as accessibility, inclusivity, and identity.

An Archive of Their Own: A Case Study of Feminist HCI and Values in Design | Casey Fiesler, Shannon Morrison, and Amy S. Bruckman ift.tt/2fs23fp

[QUOTE] From Cuteness, friendship, and identity in the brony community | Theo A. Peck-Suzuki | Transformative Works and Cultures

As noted above, material culture is generally limited by money and space (Woo 2014, ¶4.1). This is not the case for textual productions, because anyone with a computing device, an Internet connection, and network permission to visit a relevant Web site (e.g., Equestria Daily) can find and access them. Thus they belong to no one in particular but rather to the fandom as a whole (Busse and Hellekson 2006, 7). In contrast to Derek Johnson’s argument that assigning authorship to bronies “attributes the creativity of participatory culture to exclusively masculine, adult, and heterosexual identities” (Johnson 2013, 145), I have found that the combination of accessibility and the ambiguity of digital creativity creates a situation in which no one possesses exclusive rights to fan fiction, just as no one owns the show Friendship Is Magic. As a means of participation and expression, fan fiction and digital media allow individuals and groups to explore and renegotiate the MLP source text in a way that has a tangible impact on how the community in general thinks about and draws from pony and its own history.

Cuteness, friendship, and identity in the brony community | Theo A. Peck-Suzuki | Transformative Works and Cultures ift.tt/2eUIZYz

[QUOTE] From Creative choices and fan practices in the transformation of theme park space | Carissa Ann Baker | Transformative Works and Cultures

Fans rarely possess equal power with commercial producers. Despite this, SotMK fans co-opt the space, reconstructing the expected practices of theme park visitors. In fact, while the text of SotMK cannot be changed by fans, the text of the Magic Kingdom is being actively altered. In this way, fans are participating in a process, similar to what Juli Parrish (2013) describes (in reference to fan fiction) as “world building,” or a “process that remakes the place itself” rather than just borrowing pieces of it.

Creative choices and fan practices in the transformation of theme park space | Carissa Ann Baker | Transformative Works and Cultures fanhackers.tumblr.com/post/152918045701/fans-rarely-possess-equal-power-with-commercial

[QUOTE] From Sheenagh Pugh, The Democratic Genre: Fan Fiction in a Literary Context, p. 219 (via nihilistelektra)

The kind of literature that fan fiction is did not spring fully formed into being in the 1960s and 70s, though some journalists still seem to think so. Throughout this book I have been stressing the link, in literary terms, between fan fiction and any other fiction based on a shared canon […]. It is clear from the comments of fan fiction writers like Ika and Belatrix Carter that one major attraction of this genre for writers is the sense of a complicit audience who already share much information with the writer and can be relied on to pick up ironies or allusions without having them spelled out. Writing based on the canons of myth and folklore can do this too, though as Belatrix Carter pointed out in chapter 7, these canons have been so extensively used for so long it is becoming harder to do anything with them that feels original.

But there is another point, implied in Ika’s remark in chapter 2 – ‘What I like about fan fiction is that you can still get that very highly trained audience that can understand very, very complex and allusive things.’ The use of ‘still’ alludes to the undoubted fact that for the traditional canons of myth, Bible, history, and folklore, this “very highly trained” audience is not as reliable as it once was, because the canon information is not as widely shared as it used to be. […] a writer can no longer allude to Lazarus, Circe or Alexander and be reasonably sure that most of his readers have in their heads the thoughts, stories or images for which he was aiming. The human need for heroes and archetypes does not go away, but their faces change with time, and one avatar takes the place of another. Ika’s point is a shrewd one: in an age of fragmented rather than shared cultures the fan fiction audience is unusual in having as thorough a knowledge of its particularly shared canon as a Bible-reading or classically educated audience once did.

Sheenagh Pugh, The Democratic Genre: Fan Fiction in a Literary Context, p. 219 (via nihilistelektra) ift.tt/2e8XhTk

[QUOTE] From Drew Emanuel Berkowitz, Framing the Future of Fanfiction: How The New York Times’ Portrayal of a Youth Media Subculture Influences Beliefs about Media Literacy Education, p205

Corporations no longer need to sue fanfiction communities; rather than being litigated into submission, authors now give up their rights willingly.

Drew Emanuel Berkowitz, Framing the Future of Fanfiction: How The New York Times’ Portrayal of a Youth Media Subculture Influences Beliefs about Media Literacy Education, p205 ift.tt/2e6dGYd

[QUOTE] From Abigail de Kosnik, in Why Study Fan Archives: An Interview with Abigail De Kosnik (Part One)

Fan fiction archives’ mission is to preserve all fan works for all fans, not to judge which are “worth” saving and which are not worthy. Fan critics can debate which fan works, in any given universe, are the “best,” but fan archivists strive to preserve all of the works, as much as they can ­- because they value their fandoms as important and significant living cultural communities, and they feel that every corner of their cultures is worth safeguarding.

Abigail de Kosnik, in Why Study Fan Archives: An Interview with Abigail De Kosnik (Part One) ift.tt/2eB5H7g

[QUOTE] From Homophobia, heteronormativity, and slash fan fiction | April S. Callis | Transformative Works and Cultures

Social science research has pointed to a gradual lessening of both homophobia and heteronormativity in the United States since the 1970s. That this lessening is mirrored in K/S fan fiction points to the utility of fan fiction as a lens through which to study society. While writers of slash fan fiction might be, on the whole, more accepting of nonheterosexuality than their nonslash-writing peers, these individuals are still clearly influenced by normative cultural expectations. Therefore, a study of slash fan fiction across the decades could also point to changes in how sexual identity is understood, how roles within relationships should be articulated, or even in our understanding of what is sexually pleasurable. Thus, studying changing US norms of gender and sexuality through slash fan fiction is a fruitful—dare I say logical—endeavor.

Homophobia, heteronormativity, and slash fan fiction | April S. Callis | Transformative Works and Cultures ift.tt/2dnmWHi

[QUOTE] From Wilson, Anna. 2016. “The Role of Affect in Fan Fiction.” In “The Classical Canon and/as Transformative Work,” edited by Ika Willis, Transformative Works and Cultures, no. 21.http://ift.tt/2c6cCRl. (via wildehacked)

Fan fiction often demonstrates a high level of knowledge of and insight into its source texts (or canons, in fan fiction vocabulary) and, as an allusive literary form, rewards equally high levels of knowledge in its readers. This knowledge has an erotic inflection (as, famously, in early English translations of the Bible, where to know is to intimately penetrate); fans have not only understanding but intimacy with their canon, and fan fiction increases this intimacy. Theorists of fan fiction often speak of fan fiction as filling the gaps in a source text, a phrase with its own sexual undertones that also describes fan fiction’s self-assumed role as interlinear glossing of a source text. Silences and absences in the source text act as barriers to intimacy, and fan fiction writers fill these silences with their imaginative activity, enabling their own deeper understanding of the world and characters of the source text. In its current context in popular media fandom, fan fiction is, among other things, a heuristic tool: a mental technology that facilitates understanding of a text by means of an affective hermeneutics—a set of ways of gaining knowledge through feeling.

Wilson, Anna. 2016. “The Role of Affect in Fan Fiction.” In “The Classical Canon and/as Transformative Work,” edited by Ika Willis, Transformative Works and Cultures, no. 21.http://ift.tt/2c6cCRl. (via wildehacked) ift.tt/2dHAQa6

[QUOTE] From Iron Man in Chinese boys’ love fandom: A story untold | John Wei | Transformative Works and Cultures

Founded in 2003, Jinjiang Wenxue Cheng (the Jinjiang City of Literature, hereafter Jinjiang) (www.jjwxc.net/) proclaims itself to be the largest female cyberlit platform in the world, with 93 percent of its over 7 million registered members being women (JJWXC n.d.; Feng 2009; Xu and Yang 2013). BL fan fics, or danmei tongren (from the Japanese words tanbi, “addicted to beauty,” and dōjinshi), are listed side by side with yanqing (heterosexual romance) as two major genres on the Web site, where male-male love is treated as another form of romantic relationship. Jinjiang is one of the major platforms for online distribution of Chinese BL fiction where people pay the authors in order to read their favorite titles, often with the first few chapters free, while the Web site charges a commission for each subscription. (…) Jinjiang also helps build connections between novelists and publishers to facilitate commercial publication of popular yanqing titles. BL fiction with homosexual content, however, often cannot pass the censors to be legally published in China, even as niche publications.

Iron Man in Chinese boys’ love fandom: A story untold | John Wei | Transformative Works and Cultures ift.tt/2clFc3l

[QUOTE] From ‘The Ethical Hearse’: Privacy, Identity and Fandom Online | Bethan Jones

What is crucial in both ‘Morangate’ and ‘Theory of fic gate’ is that none of the fans were asked permission for their involvement, and none of the instigators considered the effects on the fans. In other words, the fans were acted upon rather than able to determine quoting an author without seeking their permission first. In the social sciences, though, the person is put first. It’s why we have ethics boards in universities and why we have to consider humanities, of course. My work falls squarely under the humanities banner, as done much fan studies, but we are asking permission of fans and seeking out ethical approval from institutions for our research. But privilege is still an issue which needs to be understood more fully in academia and we have to recognise the ways in which we, as well as the press, engage with fans.

‘The Ethical Hearse’: Privacy, Identity and Fandom Online | Bethan Jones ift.tt/2bTw82o

[QUOTE] From Wilson, Anna. 2016. “The Role of Affect in Fan Fiction.” In “The Classical Canon and/as Transformative Work,” edited by Ika Willis, Transformative Works and Cultures, no. 21.http://ift.tt/2c6cCRl. (via wildehacked)

Fan fiction often demonstrates a high level of knowledge of and insight into its source texts (or canons, in fan fiction vocabulary) and, as an allusive literary form, rewards equally high levels of knowledge in its readers. This knowledge has an erotic inflection (as, famously, in early English translations of the Bible, where to know is to intimately penetrate); fans have not only understanding but intimacy with their canon, and fan fiction increases this intimacy. Theorists of fan fiction often speak of fan fiction as filling the gaps in a source text, a phrase with its own sexual undertones that also describes fan fiction’s self-assumed role as interlinear glossing of a source text. Silences and absences in the source text act as barriers to intimacy, and fan fiction writers fill these silences with their imaginative activity, enabling their own deeper understanding of the world and characters of the source text. In its current context in popular media fandom, fan fiction is, among other things, a heuristic tool: a mental technology that facilitates understanding of a text by means of an affective hermeneutics—a set of ways of gaining knowledge through feeling.

Wilson, Anna. 2016. “The Role of Affect in Fan Fiction.” In “The Classical Canon and/as Transformative Work,” edited by Ika Willis, Transformative Works and Cultures, no. 21.http://ift.tt/2c6cCRl.
(via wildehacked) ift.tt/2bY9jib

[QUOTE] From The creation of football slash fan fiction | Abby Waysdorf | Transformative Works and Cultures

Football slash fan fiction is both a result of and reaction to mediated football fandom. It exists because of the understanding of football as a narrative, but also because of what mainstream football fandom leaves out of its world. It is a way to play with the boundaries between real and fictional while also exploring the hidden potential of the football narrative and experiencing it in a welcoming environment.

It is also a result of changes in fan fiction practice. Contemporary slash fan fiction writers see nearly any media narrative as transformable, and this potential increases when the narrative is seen as slashy. Changes in the way that fan fiction is distributed and consumed meant that the older proscriptions about what was “fic-able” and what wasn’t became less powerful. Once they learn the form, slash fan fiction writers become trained to see slash and fan fiction potential in the media they encounter. Professional football’s heavily homosocial environment makes it ideal for a slash interpretation, with the visual material to stimulate the imagination and a variety of potential relationship dynamics and character types to write and read about. Additionally, its similarity to cult narratives means that fan fiction writers recognize where they can fill in the narrative spaces of football to suit their needs. This is not necessarily in contrast to being a more traditional sports fan, but rather in tandem with it, a way to work through the emotions of being a football fan and to explore parts of it in a way not seen in more mainstream football fan spaces.

The creation of football slash fan fiction | Abby Waysdorf | Transformative Works and Cultures ift.tt/2bml2Cy

[QUOTE] From A brief history of fan fiction in Germany | Vera Cuntz-Leng | Transformative Works and Cultures

The significance of manga and anime in German fan fiction remains recognizable today. 29 percent of all pieces of fan fiction uploaded to FanFiktion.de and 49.5 percent of the 148,220 fan writings on Animexx are categorized as manga/anime (the latter unsurprising considering that the Web site caters to anime and manga fans), whereas the international FanFiction.net archive lists only 25.3 percent of its 41,183,979 texts in these categories and Archive of Our Own (ift.tt/1ffprbE) not even 12 percent (Table 1).

A brief history of fan fiction in Germany | Vera Cuntz-Leng | Transformative Works and Cultures ift.tt/2bMqZdK

[QUOTE] From Queering the media mix: The female gaze in Japanese fan comics | Kathryn Hemmann | Transformative Works and Cultures

As this media mix has had several more decades to evolve in Japan than in the United States and Europe, the Japanese understanding of convergence culture is significantly more progressive concerning the user-generated portion of the mix (note 6). Specifically, Japanese publishers, producers, and entertainment corporations create media properties in such a way as to encourage audience participation through transformative works, the production of which is taken for granted and directly incorporated into their business strategies and marketing models (Steinberg 2012).

Instead of discouraging fan works such as fan fiction, fan art, and fan comics, Japanese media producers depend on them to ensure a healthy and stable economic ecosystem for their franchise properties. After all, many highly successful content creators were once fans themselves (note 7). Therefore, in Japan, fans do not exist outside of transmediality and corporate convergence cultures but instead are integral to the success of the media mix.

Since the Japanese media mix model may serve as an indicator of the future evolution of overseas media cultures, which are increasingly pursuing mutually beneficial relationships with fan cultures (note 8), a better understanding of Japanese fan works and their relationship to mainstream media is useful for understanding the transnational fandom response to titles such as Sherlock (note 9).

Queering the media mix: The female gaze in Japanese fan comics | Kathryn Hemmann | Transformative Works and Cultures ift.tt/2aXwCH7

[LINK] An Archive of Their Own: A Case Study of Feminist HCI and Values in Design (CHI 2016)

ift.tt/1SgE54y

cfiesler:

In which my study about the design of AO3 not only gets into the big publication venue in my field, but also wins a major award. Fandom is amazing, and I want all the computing scholars to know it, too!

The link in this post is to my blog post about the paper, which is the TL;DR version. But here’s an even more TL;DR version, i.e., what I think is most interesting to fans about this work. (Disclaimer: I’ve been on the legal committee of OTW since 2009, but this work was entirely independent of them! I also didn’t screen potential study participants for any particular attitudes towards OTW or the archive.)

Why did you study AO3? My dissertation was largely about social norms about copyright in online creative communities. I interviewed a lot of fan creators over a few years, and when we talked about copyright norms around things like attribution, remixing remixes, etc., a lot of people mentioned specific AO3 design features. I’ve been following AO3 closely since it’s very beginnings, and I know that there’s something really unique and amazing about it: It’s a massively successful online platform built completely by the people who needed it, built to reflect their values and norms. And the majority of those builders have been women. It’s amazing! And I thought, there is probably something that designers can learn from this.

So for this study I (with the help of an undergraduate research assistant) interviewed a bunch of AO3 users, as well as people who worked on the development of the archive in the early days. And by the way: THANK YOU TUMBLR because I had so many volunteers that I had to turn people away. Trust me, this never happens. All my colleagues were super jealous. I was like, well, you guys really should study fans because they’re awesome.

What is feminist HCI? First, HCI is human-computer interaction, so welcome to my discipline! And feminist HCI (here’s the paper about it!) is the idea that a lot of the central commitments of feminism – like empowerment, agency, equity, participation, identity, advocacy, social justice – are great things to integrate into interaction design. Imagine if all of these things were really important to the people building the technologies that you use!

So how does this apply to AO3? Talking to folks about AO3 made it clear that a lot of the values that were baked into the design are the same values at the core of feminist HCI. For example, participation: this is the entire reason that AO3 exists, so that fans themselves have control over their own space. And accessibility, diversity, and inclusivity – there are so many little design decisions towards these things, an attempt to try to make sure that not only does everyone have the ability to use the site, but that everyone feels welcome. One of my favorite quotes: “If you think you’re a fan, then you’re a fan, and you’re welcome here.” And also, the tagging system at AO3 is pretty amazing – not only did most of the users I talked to speak at length about how this improves over other sites they’ve used, but also the user-created folksonomy means that the archive doesn’t make content judgments. You can use any tag you want, and this actually becomes a pretty powerful thing because even a system picking categories for you to choose from (e.g., gender or relationship options on social networking sites) is an exercise of power. And the way that AO3 handles identity and pseudonyms is pretty nuanced, too. It all adds up to many small things that users really seem to appreciate. (The image below is from the Tag Wranglers page on Fanlore – this is in my paper, so it’s probably the only CHI paper to have the phrase “mermaid!sex” in it.)

And what did you learn? Besides just presenting AO3 as a case study of feminist HCI as successful, there are also some useful lessons for designing to reconcile competing values. After all, fandom doesn’t always agree on priorities! This of course is a huge problem in lots of contexts – the idea that you can’t please everyone. And of course, not all of AO3′s design or policy choices have been popular over the years. But there are a few things that AO3 does to mitigate some of these value tensions. For example, fan history is important! It sucks when archives disappear (Geocities anyone???) and all those stories you loved are just gone forever. But control is also important! If you want to wipe your fannish identity off the face of the earth, you should be able to do that. So AO3 has orphaning, which lets you erase your name/identity/footprint from fics while not erasing the fic forever. Another example is the content warning system, which was a compromise between the desire to not cast judgment on content (”your kink is not my kink but I will defend it!”) as long as it’s legal, and the desire to protect people from stuff that they don’t want to see or is triggering. Of course, this solution isn’t perfect, and some of my interview participants talked about wanting a “tag blacklist” to help even more. But in short: AO3 does some cool and thoughtful design things that are interesting to people studying HCI.

So now what! Well, I’m a professor now, and I hope to keep studying these sorts of things. I’m interested in feminism and women in technology (remember the Barbie remix? Yeah that was me, I was Internet famous for about a day), online communities and especially fandom, and social norms and law. If you want to know if I do more studies of fans in the future, you can follow me here or on Twitter. Because can’t stop won’t stop writing!

Finally, thank you to everyone who participated, volunteered, or shared, because this kind of work isn’t possible without awesome people to talk to. And you can read the full paper at the link at the top of this post!

[META] An Archive of Their Own: A Case Study of Feminist HCI and Values in Design (CHI 2016)

An Archive of Their Own: A Case Study of Feminist HCI and Values in Design (CHI 2016):

cfiesler:

In which my study about the design of AO3 not only gets into the big publication venue in my field, but also wins a major award. Fandom is amazing, and I want all the computing scholars to know it, too!  

The link in this post is to my blog post about the paper, which is the TL;DR version. But here’s an even more TL;DR version, i.e., what I think is most interesting to fans about this work. (Disclaimer: I’ve been on the legal committee of OTW since 2009, but this work was entirely independent of them! I also didn’t screen potential study participants for any particular attitudes towards OTW or the archive.)

Why did you study AO3? My dissertation was largely about social norms about copyright in online creative communities. I interviewed a lot of fan creators over a few years, and when we talked about copyright norms around things like attribution, remixing remixes, etc., a lot of people mentioned specific AO3 design features. I’ve been following AO3 closely since it’s very beginnings, and I know that there’s something really unique and amazing about it: It’s a massively successful online platform built completely by the people who needed it, built to reflect their values and norms. And the majority of those builders have been women. It’s amazing! And I thought, there is probably something that designers can learn from this. 

image

So for this study I (with the help of an undergraduate research assistant) interviewed a bunch of AO3 users, as well as people who worked on the development of the archive in the early days. And by the way: THANK YOU TUMBLR because I had so many volunteers that I had to turn people away. Trust me, this never happens. All my colleagues were super jealous. I was like, well, you guys really should study fans because they’re awesome.

What is feminist HCI?  First, HCI is human-computer interaction, so welcome to my discipline! And feminist HCI (here’s the paper about it!) is the idea that a lot of the central commitments of feminism – like empowerment, agency, equity, participation, identity, advocacy, social justice – are great things to integrate into interaction design. Imagine if all of these things were really important to the people building the technologies that you use!

image

So how does this apply to AO3? Talking to folks about AO3 made it clear that a lot of the values that were baked into the design are the same values at the core of feminist HCI. For example, participation: this is the entire reason that AO3 exists, so that fans themselves have control over their own space. And accessibility, diversity, and inclusivity – there are so many little design decisions towards these things, an attempt to try to make sure that not only does everyone have the ability to use the site, but that everyone feels welcome. One of my favorite quotes: “If you think you’re a fan, then you’re a fan, and you’re welcome here.” And also, the tagging system at AO3 is pretty amazing – not only did most of the users I talked to speak at length about how this improves over other sites they’ve used, but also the user-created folksonomy means that the archive doesn’t make content judgments. You can use any tag you want, and this actually becomes a pretty powerful thing because even a system picking categories for you to choose from (e.g., gender or relationship options on social networking sites) is an exercise of power. And the way that AO3 handles identity and pseudonyms is pretty nuanced, too. It all adds up to many small things that users really seem to appreciate. (The image below is from the Tag Wranglers page on Fanlore – this is in my paper, so it’s probably the only CHI paper to have the phrase “mermaid!sex” in it.)

image

And what did you learn? Besides just presenting AO3 as a case study of feminist HCI as successful, there are also some useful lessons for designing to reconcile competing values. After all, fandom doesn’t always agree on priorities! This of course is a huge problem in lots of contexts – the idea that you can’t please everyone. And of course, not all of AO3′s design or policy choices have been popular over the years. But there are a few things that AO3 does to mitigate some of these value tensions. For example, fan history is important! It sucks when archives disappear (Geocities anyone???) and all those stories you loved are just gone forever. But control is also important! If you want to wipe your fannish identity off the face of the earth, you should be able to do that. So AO3 has orphaning, which lets you erase your name/identity/footprint from fics while not erasing the fic forever. Another example is the content warning system, which was a compromise between the desire to not cast judgment on content (”your kink is not my kink but I will defend it!”) as long as it’s legal, and the desire to protect people from stuff that they don’t want to see or is triggering. Of course, this solution isn’t perfect, and some of my interview participants talked about wanting a “tag blacklist” to help even more. But in short: AO3 does some cool and thoughtful design things that are interesting to people studying HCI.

So now what!  Well, I’m a professor now, and I hope to keep studying these sorts of things. I’m interested in feminism and women in technology (remember the Barbie remix? Yeah that was me, I was Internet famous for about a day), online communities and especially fandom, and social norms and law. If you want to know if I do more studies of fans in the future, you can follow me here or on Twitter. Because can’t stop won’t stop writing!

image

Finally, thank you to everyone who participated, volunteered, or shared, because this kind of work isn’t possible without awesome people to talk to. And you can read the full paper at the link at the top of this post!

image

[QUOTE] From Mel Stanfill – Fandom, public, commons

Changes to fan creative practice are various and telling. Posting fiction that has not been beta read and is thus riddled with errors relating to both show canon and to writing is now routine. Leora Hadas (2009, 5.2) has described this attitude in the context of Doctor Who fandom as the sense of a “basic right” to create and post fic, and it points to prioritizing individual desire to create over any sense of obligation to produce something others will find worth reading. Similarly, some of the old rules about acceptable content, such as the prohibition on real-person fiction described by Henry Jenkins ([2002] 2006), are no longer widely used, again gesturing toward individual creativity over concern for what the community might find objectionable (see also Hadas 2009). Moreover, the reciprocity of feedback as payment for creativity seems to be decaying, with frequent pleas or demands for feedback appended to chapters of large works, often as a condition of continuing the story, suggesting that there is no longer a norm that such response is freely given. Finally, the aesthetic conventions of vids are changing, such as incorporating show dialogue rather than simply having the music provide the soundtrack, or producing trailers for fan fiction stories; while this is not as clearly an individualistic move as the other examples, it does demonstrate a move away from previous modes of producing creative fan work. It is unclear whether these fans know that the older modes exist and have rejected them; or whether the influx of new fans was too great to teach them all how it had been done before; or whether they don’t know at all because searchability provides different routes to finding out that there is such a thing as fic or vidding in the absence of knowing how it has traditionally been done. However, change is clearly in progress.

Mel Stanfill – Fandom, public, commons ift.tt/1N4tO6b

[QUOTE] From Mel Stanfill – Fandom, public, commons

As fans create, then, they not only create for a public but also create a public; that is, in producing for such a community, they call one into existence. (…) Fan creative production like fiction and vidding is produced for an imagined audience of people who know not only the source text or texts but also—more importantly—people who understand what these forms are as a genre. This can be seen from the ways in which fan creators tend not to do the work of explaining how to interpret these things. When fans create, they do so with the understanding that the people who ultimately consume their work will understand that they are reworking popular cultural texts within a set of conventions of both authorship and ownership. Through addressing an imagined public with those specifications, that text performatively produces one. Fandom is defined as the group of people who understand what is being done in the fan text; “the circularity is essential to the phenomenon” (Warner 2005, 67). The public of fandom—or, to use Warner’s terminology (since fandom is a minoritized position), the counterpublic of fandom—is produced through an ongoing circulation of these texts binding people together.

Mel Stanfill – Fandom, public, commons ift.tt/1DBM315

[QUOTE] From Mel Stanfill – Fandom, public, commons

As fans create, then, they not only create for a public but also create a public; that is, in producing for such a community, they call one into existence. (…) Fan creative production like fiction and vidding is produced for an imagined audience of people who know not only the source text or texts but also—more importantly—people who understand what these forms are as a genre. This can be seen from the ways in which fan creators tend not to do the work of explaining how to interpret these things. When fans create, they do so with the understanding that the people who ultimately consume their work will understand that they are reworking popular cultural texts within a set of conventions of both authorship and ownership. Through addressing an imagined public with those specifications, that text performatively produces one. Fandom is defined as the group of people who understand what is being done in the fan text; “the circularity is essential to the phenomenon” (Warner 2005, 67). The public of fandom—or, to use Warner’s terminology (since fandom is a minoritized position), the counterpublic of fandom—is produced through an ongoing circulation of these texts binding people together.

Mel Stanfill – Fandom, public, commons ift.tt/1DBM315

[QUOTE] From Drew Emanuel Berkowitz, Framing the Future of Fanfiction: How The New York Times’ Portrayal of a Youth Media Subculture Influences Beliefs about Media Literacy Education

The New York Times generally presented fanfiction as a financial opportunity for the corporations that own the intellectual properties copied by fanfiction. Many articles asserted that franchises benefit from, and in some cases rely on, their fanfiction communities. For example, Harris (2008) ties the box office success of the X-Files film to the continued health of its fanfiction community, while Heffernan (2008) depicts a lack of homoerotic fanfiction as problematic for the success of any show with a large, attractive male cast. Thompson (2005) reports on the lucrative partnership between the Halo fan-film circle Rooster Teeth and Halo’s copyright holder Microsoft. This “co-opted/encouraged by industry” frame presents a view of fanfiction’s future as a marketing tool, rather than a fan-driven culture. The frame is frequently associated with the “self-branding” purpose frame; teenagers who desire to become part of their favored franchise show their solidarity with the product and fan subculture in ways which are extremely beneficial for intellectual property holders (Hitt 2008; Scott 2002).

Drew Emanuel Berkowitz, Framing the Future of Fanfiction: How The New York Times’ Portrayal of a Youth Media Subculture Influences Beliefs about Media Literacy Education ift.tt/1FA6vyk