When I wrote fan fiction

My ex didn’t like my fanfic character. She thought he was annoying.

Just to be clear, that’s not why we broke up. There were other reasons that had nothing to do with my writing, though I do admit I was envious of her own writing skills.

But her attitude toward my character didn’t help the insecurity that had already been sprouting. I was doubting my ability to tell his story. And that insecurity only grew as I began to write one false start after another.

And I want to make it clear that I’m not blaming her for my inability to write. That blame rests squarely on me. I think what happened was that she had insight that I didn’t. She saw something wrong that I couldn’t. And I didn’t know what to do with this information.

You see, she disliked the qualities of my character that I was most interested in. And I believe the reason she disliked my character is because I didn’t have the skill to write a story that serviced his personality.

I think it’s because I was writing a story about trauma and anxiety without realizing it was about trauma and anxiety. Yet I was also trying to shoehorn that character into a Campbellian nightmare of a hero’s journey.

Mine was a character so fearful and anxious that he became just a collection of desires that he never pursued. He didn’t have goals. He didn’t have agency. He didn’t make things happen; rather, things happened to him. It wasn’t until I finally gave him something he wanted (and actually worked toward) that I started getting positive feedback about my character.

I had a plan for him from the beginning. His journey was mapped out. But I realized too late that he didn’t have the right personality for that kind of journey. And by too late, I mean right before I started typing this blog.

It might seem strange that this character has stayed with me for so long. Maybe I should have let it go long ago. But not unlike a relationship, I think parts of a story tend to remain with you long after it ends. So here I am reflecting on a character separated from me by over 20 years, trying to understand what went wrong, trying to believe that I have more insight now than I did then.

Part of the problem with writing a story about trauma without realizing it is that the problem is always present but never addressed. In my inexperience, I believed that the problem was something else. I had created a character who needed to deal with anxiety and fear of abandonment, but within a framework of also needing to defeat the bad guys. But after defeating the bad guys, his actual everyday problems still remained. Whatever satisfaction came with defeating the bad guys was undercut by the fact that my character had not grown. I had created an unsatisfying reading experience without resolution.

And part of this problem was that neither he nor I recognized what his actual problems were. I was too inexperienced to write stories about mental health.

Could I do a better job today? I don’t doubt it. But I don’t think I have the same drive to tell his story today as I did back then. Which is a shame. He deserved better.