writers and readers

One of the things that I have been struggling with over this semester is the relationship between readers and writers. Although this weeks readings bring up some interesting points about the publishing industry and queer readings of texts, they also tell us something about authors and audiences. For example, Willis and Mayne both deal with the issue of audiences reading into a text what the author might strenuously deny existing. Meanwhile, the account of the romance publishing industry present another look at the tension and negotiation of power between the authors named on the book and the editors and publishers that could be considered first readers of a work. Like the fan productions cited in Jenkins' books Cultural Convergence and Textual Poachers, these tensions and alternate readings of a text have always existed. What has changed is that they are increasingly visible to a larger public including the author.

So what, I wonder is the big deal with all of this if it has in fact been going on all along? I think that the major issue is a common insecurity when it comes to communication. We all want so desperately to communicate with the Other and to be understood. Our metaphors that we use to talk about communication all seem imply that messages, thoughts, or ideas can somehow be transmitted from one person to another with failures usually attributed to the listener. The publicity of the Internet shows not only that our messages can be misunderstood but that some will deliberately choose to misunderstand.

when everybody is an author...

Jenkins, in convergence culture, relies a great deal on the theory of collective intelligence posed by Pierre Levy to explain the activities and communities of fans and by extension audiences. Levy (1997) speculates that the effect of digital technologies and the Internet will be the evolution of collective intelligence, which is

a form of universally distributed intelligence, constantly enhanced, coordinated in
real time, and resulting in the effective moblization of skills….The basis and goal of
collective intelligence is the mutual recognition and enrichment of individuals
rather than the cult of fetishized or hypoststized communities. (p. 13)

Along with Barthes and others that posit the death of the author, Levy too seems to hint at authorlessness, not because of the soullessness of text or the effect of discourse communities, but because when everyone can be considered an author then the exclusivity of the term seems to lose its value.

Thus, just when minorities and other suppressed groups seem to be finally gaining the status of author, the very prestige of the term seems to be stripped away. When anyone can publish their work, when the gates truly come down, it is no longer possible to "win" according to the old rules of the game. The game has changed. Levy's society of collective intelligence is a Utopian one (although he maintains that it is an achievable utopia). Nevertheless, I believe that the Internet holds the promise of better dialogue and equal opportunity than the old school publishing industry ever will. And, it is through dialogue not one-way mass communication that we will learn to fear the other less and see instead our commonalities.

where did all the folk songs go?

For me, Jenkins' chapter on the interaction between grassroots communities, mass media, and a participatory culture brought it all together for me. I subscribe to a very liberal and open definition of authorship that can encompass creations in all kinds of media. Perhaps, as some might argue, it places one in danger of devaluing the concept of authorship as something special. However, I have concluded over the semester that I would rather embrace the published author and the self published author as equal on some level of creativity and ownership than let that title be awarded through a critic no matter how educated or by the winds of fortune that are all too often channeled by the powerful for their own ends. END of RANT.

Seriously though, I think that Jenkins is on to something when he points out that the folk culture never completely died, it just was overshadowed by mass media. Mass media, in turn, could ignore it when their "intellectual property" was recycled into folk culture since it wasn't so obvious. With the advent of the Internet and digital technologies, mass media discovered competition for audiences in its own back yard and infringement on its trademarks that reached a large number of people. What they forgot in the years since mass media took over was the vibrant potential of working with grassroots culture to make a better product.

Likely one of the last examples of mass media working with grassroots communities is the old Marx Brother's movies. Their early films were cobbled together from their vaudeville routines. Later films were taken to the road where the brothers would test out audience reactions on their bits making small alterations to get the biggest laughs. In contrast to today, television shows have their pilots and films have their advance screenings but months of audience feedback are not the norm. However, it seems that at least some are trying out these strategies with beta testers in the game industry and increasing audience involvement in other productions.

supplemental blog entry on slash fiction

Okay, so I waited a day before posting my reflective comments on writing my story. First of all, I did not attempt to post it to a fan fiction site. Why? Because I didn't feel comfortable doing that. For one thing, despite reading a few stories, I didn't feel comfortable adding my little "story" to the mess. For me, reading a few stories wasn't enough to get me involved in the culture. The other larger reason was that I felt attached to my little story and I didn't want to offer it up to public commentary. Sure I'll post it to the blog, but that is a horse of another color in my book.

Community conventions, scriptural economies, and textual poaching...

I feel that as far as community conventions go, I just wasn't familiar enough with them to really meet them. As far as I could tell, pretty much anything went on the Doctor Who Fan Fiction sites that I browsed. Some of the quality was really excellent, some was weak (like my own story) and some of it I just want to forget because I really don't want to think about some of my favorite characters in that light. I did write a more traditional slash fan fiction dealing with a potential male/male relationship. However, this is nothing new in the Doctor Who series since it was an accepted theme in the Television series that Jack Harkness was bisexual and had a huge crush on the Doctor.

I did employ some direct textual poaching. In my short-short story below, I used a couple of lines from the Doctor Who Episode "The Sound of Drums." They are the isolated lines in italics. However, I don't think that I was as good when it came to scriptural economies. For me, that was a matter of knowing that my potential audience (classmates) were not familiar material, so I really felt the need to add in more detail.

What did I learn from this experience? I'm not the type to write or even enjoy fan fiction much. I'd rather keep my theories and fantasies to myself or just share verbally while viewing the media. It may sound a bit harsh, but I don't really care that much, certainly not enough to spend any significant time on the websites or doing much more beyond viewing the DVDs with their bonus material.

Doctor Who slash fiction story

The words echo in Jack’s head as he sits alone at his desk. The rest of his team has finally been convinced to go home and get some sleep after his sudden reappearance. It’s been years, but only days since he last said good bye to the Doctor and Martha. The distance between him and the Doctor was only inches, but it might have well been miles.

It’s like when you fancy someone and they don’t even know you exist.

The Doctor had said trying to explain how his latest contraption would enable them to spy on the bad guys. And it still echoed in his mind. Much like it probably echoed in Martha’s head as well.

You too, huh?

At least Martha could say to herself that she walked away first. Me, after getting literally dumped on a space station, I couldn’t take a hint. No, the first chance I get I’m chasing after him again. As soon as I hear the distinctive whirr-whirr of the TARDIS, I drop everything to run after him. Telling myself that I need his help, that he needs my help, when all I was really doing was getting my heart broken yet again.

It time and then some to let him go. Let him go and go on with my own life and stop acting like a silly young boy chasing after his first crush. I swear I can hear the sound of the TARDIS even now. Which is even more stupid than…

I can hear the TARDIS!

The lift isn’t fast enough, so I race up ladder and out an exit no one else knows about. The Doctor’s ship, stuck in shape of a Blue Police Box that went the way of the pay phone back in the early sixties, sits in splendid isolation in the dark. As I run, the door opens and the Doctor stumbles out and into my arms looking rather worse for wear. Holding him fills me with joy once more and I ache to kiss him just one more time, but his eyes only hold a weary acknowledgement. He knows, but he turns away once more: A heroic coward who risks his life to save others without hesitation, but runs from risking his heart in something more than a friendship.

He opens his mouth to speak and the moment passes just like that. I’ll help him with whatever mad scheme he has to save the world and then I’ll put my heart back together again when he leaves until the next time we meet.