Fan Fic

Willow Goes Blonde

Buffy just seemed to look good in everything; the baby blue tank, the liquorice red leather mini-skirt, the suede 3 inch pumps.

“She just suits every darn thing.” Willow though to herself as Buffy shimmied her way in and out of every trend so effortlessly. The fact that Buffy looked an image of perfection just 12 hours after pulverising a group of soul seeking demons posing as frat boys, made it all the more remarkable. Buffy seemed to have the essence of life situated in between her warm honey blonde streaks. From her boundless energy to the handful of exotic letharios lining up outside her window, Buffy was certainly slaying it in every sense of the word.

“This is totally cute, like Britney Spears if she was an IRS officer.” Buffy smirked.

“Willow don’t you think it’s perfect.” Buffy asked while running her hands up and down a blue-steeled skirt-suit she was now wearing.

“Willow” Buffy snapped.

“Whaddya think?” she pressed

“Yea, it looks good Buff.” Willow responded still half entrenched in her previous train of thought.

“Xander I think this is the one.” Buffy exclaimed, with one eye checking her reflection in the dresser mirror and the other one on Xander who was sitting a little uneasy on a puffy pink sitte.

“Yes it reeks of gothic corporate espionage... can we get out here now?’’ Xander pleaded.

However something sparked inside of Willow, why couldn’t she get a cute outfit and whoop can like Buffy?

“I can be a hero...” she thought, albeit tentatively to herself. She then sprung out of her slumped position and marched over to where Xander was sitting.

“Tell Gilles that his credit card will have two suits booked on it, Buff I’m coming out on stake out tonight”.

Buffy quickly mulled the idea over in her head, a slight twitch of her nose the only part of her body suggesting any concern

“Okay then Willow” she shot back with clarity.

“You’re a size 8 right?”

Willow and Buffy found that Blanco Incorporated wasn’t as hard to infiltrate as they had first imagined. Both were paired in an immaculate grey-blue skirt-jacket combo, and had found their way into the head office of the organisation. Now all they had to do was obtain the file on operation ‘Valley Dolls’.

“Valley dolls, valley dolls... it’s gotta be here somewhere” Willow sighed as she flicked through a silver cabinet filled with beige office files. Buffy looked at her friend who despite initial fears she may get in the way, had actually helped to make this night out a smooth ride.

“It was a great idea you coming out tonight Will, it must of have been that new dye job”. Buffy ribbed alluding to Willows new blonde locks which replaced her normally burning auburn red colouring.

“I told you buff, it’s just a wig... I thought it would complement the whole corporate espionage theme.” she reassured Buffy while at the same time flicking her hair out with the same conviction of a shampoo model in a TV advertisement.

As they both rummaged through the cabinets, they heard a quiet buzzing from the corners of the room. They both looked at each other, before hunching low underneath a nearby desk. The noise steadily got louder and louder before they heard the office door suddenly slam open. The dark room suddenly filled with light, as a man with a nicotine strained voice spoke over a static riddled walky talky.

“Two blondies...? Well I’m sure they’ll pop out before the sun comes up...you boys get some rest, leave them to me!” he signed off his voice rippling with a menacing snigger. Willow suddenly felt her nose starting to twitch, it seem the blonde wig she was wearing was starting to make her allergies play up. Her whole body seized with silence as she tried to hold her sneeze in, Buffy also chimed in trying to calm Willow down. But as quickly as this ordeal started, it ended. Willow let out a shrieking sneeze that burst the still room into chaotic action.

The table they were under was flipped over by a pale purple arm which had yellow flesh wounds sewn around it. The creature suddenly came into view; it was a zombie that exuded death from every pore. It stood just over six feet tall and was wearing the remnants of what looked a black trouser suit. A blue chequered tie dangled from this neck, shredded to a pulp as he grabbed Willow by the leg.

“Mmmmm... two new vessels for the project, I think I’ll call you blondie number 23 and blondie number twenty four.” He snickered spitting green foam on to Willow’s blonde wig which had started to fall from her scalp. However as quickly as he came into Willow’s sight, he disappeared as Buffy got him in a chokehold and hurled him into the steel cabinet.

“Willow, I’ve got him down... you know what to do.” Buffy calmly instructed as she held her knee over the zombies head as it screeched inane babblings. Willow quickly regained her footing and threw the blonde wig to one side. She took six heaving strides towards the creature, stood over top of it and raised her heels. The black leather platforms had a six inch spiky steel heel that Willow dangled over the zombie’s forehead.

“Is this angle right, Buffy?” she purred

“Yep, perfect, now let’s get this done now okay”. Buffy commanded as Willow obeyed, thrusting the spiked heel directly into the Zombie’s skin and through the back of his head. A single stream of blood dripped from the edge of her heel as she quickly pulled it out. The zombie screamed in agonising pain as his body thrust from side to side, jerking in a sadistic rhythm before finally coming to a sharp crescendo and falling flat to the floor.

“Right in the brain Buff, Right in the brain.” Willow declared as Buffy quickly got up and looked down at her victim.

“I think my brain felt like that when I had the blonde wig on” Willow then chuckled.

“Shut up!! I thought you looked super-heroine chic” Buffy rebutted.

“Just like you” she hissed sweetly as the two quickly picked up their file and scuttled off into the early dawn light.

Commentary

For my fan-fiction I wanted to play on the character role of the hero or in this case the heroine in accordance to the television series Buffy the Vampire Slayer. However I decided to come from the viewpoint of the character of Willow who would normally be derided as a side-kick type of character. In terms of the character of Willow, she is normally cast to the side as a point for comic relief. Jung refers to these kinds of characters as tricksters and Willow does fit many of the characteristics. However in this narrative I’ve tried to give her the hero’s sheen and I’ve used Buffy as the example of a hero she is aiming for. The blonde wig also symbolises the archetypal hero that Voegler (1998) talks about which emphasises the ‘unique’ over the stereo typical, that sense of the hero being extraordinary. Willow is quite ordinary in comparison to Buffy and doesn’t quite act out the way Voegler (1998) prescribes the archetypal hero should. But when she throws the blonde wig to the side, Willow in a sense is declaring she is a new kind of hero, who might be a little more introverted than the archetypal hero.

In terms of narrative structure the story comes with a beginning, middle and an end. This story is about Willow finding more affirmation in her life, and this story acts like a start to that journey. In terms of adapting some of the narrative guidelines presented by Voegler (1998), the story most closely explores the first act where Willow is re-imagined as a ‘’Buffy-esque” heroine type of character. The whole first half of the story sets Willow up in this new environment where she is trying to fit into her new role. However I think one of the main differences is that Willow thrust herself into this new world and this in contrast to Vogler’s (1998) first act where there is first a general “refusal to call”. Willow is also lined-up with her mentor who in this situation is Buffy, who has all the experience in playing the archetypal hero. Although Willow is the one tagging along with Buffy, it seems like this is her test and Buffy is her mentor ensuring she passes it.  Earlier on in the story Buffy doesn’t shoot her down when she asks to join her and when she asks if she is a “size 8” it is sort of like crossing the threshold for the first time. Willow now has an entry point into her new world.

The turning point and where this narrative could perhaps be seen as heading towards the second act is when the second challenge comes, the zombie. The narrative is speed up until the point where the second challenge arrives. When it is time for Willow to kill the zombie, she does not hesitate. I wouldn’t say the narrative quite sets up the third act that Voegler describes but it does explore the extreme scenario that defines the hero’s journey. This story is seen as a beginning to Willow’s re-imagining as a bold hero that is the equal to Buffy. 

Assignment 2: FanFic

The Journey Back – The Wizard of Earthsea

                                                                                             

The plains on the horizon tumble effortlessly as I inhale the morning breeze with a hint of dew still in the air. So far have I come since the days at magic school on Roke. I often think of Ged and our time spent in mischief together, our coming of age battling the shadow monster.

“Dad!! Can I have some more tea please?” wailed Ginny most mornings.

In the summer she will be off to magic school, despite her mothers hesitation. She is a wild girl, but knows the dangers of magic and is learning about the balance of power.

“Dad when is Uncle Ged arriving?”

Anika had us all up early this morning to today the house and ourselves in the most anticipated visit of the year, Ged. Whoever knows Ged loves him, he is witty, charming and powerful. The children and my wife adore him and always try trick him to stay longer than he anticipated. This trip I fear will be different, he sent note only days ago that he needs to see me and made no mention staying.

*          *          *

“Ginny, Dave! Why how big you have both gotten!” Bellowed Ged as he neared toward the house and the kids jumped all over him.

“Anika, just as gorgeous as ever, a fine job you are doing here! Hope Vetch over here isn’t giving you any grief” He winked.

Anika is beautiful; we meet just after I returned to Roke after, defeating the shadow monster with Ged and knew I would never forget her, so could never let her. She is without magic but does so many things one must think she has some magic.

“ello’ me ole mate” Ged said before embracing me in a tight hug, which revealed his frame as thinner than normal. There was also something troubling behind his eyes but I would have to wait until all were in bed to find out.

“Sparrowhawk” I respond as the embrace finishes, the name he went by before he discovered his true name.

We all sat around the dining table and fireplace exchanging stories and laughter until well after dusk had settled. After Anika put the children to bed, Ged took me outside to tell me why he was really here.

*          *          *

I awoke to the soft, warm light of the fire Anika had built and looked upon the man who sat beside me, the dancing flames reflected in his unsettled dark eyes, and hope the next time he comes, it Is to come home. Here, in the man beside me lay the troubles of towns of people, the death of Ogion the Silent, Ged’s first teacher a very powerful magician who guided him in the right path, and the kidnapping of Tenar, his love and Priestess of the Tombs of Atuan. Jasper, was our rival at school and now has taken control of Roke and is holding the Archmage hostage with Tenar and building armies, sweeping towns taking young children with magic, teaching them the darkness of it all to summon shadow monsters.

I knew from the hurried note and visit and from the wilted Ged that showed up yesterday afternoon, that I would not be home tomorrow. Ged and I must leave as early as possible and begin our journey to the Great Port of Gont, where Ogion lived and find his apprentice, to gather more information and hopefully recruit him in our quest to Roke to conquer Jasper along with the shadow monsters, and rescue his prisoners.

I shut my eyes and think of how this is almost dejavu, a quest again to where we first met and the place of our first battle quest. It was here just days ago I had a warmth in my heart that this was the end to my journey, that after all these years of searching, of conquering, of spells and runes and greatness, here, here, I was finally home. But I can’t stay I must leave with Ged, Ginny is off to magic school in Roke soon, I must make it a safe place for her to grow up and learn the ways of magic and to keep Anika and Dave safe here, by ensuring Jasper and his armies don’t raid our village. Ged needs me also, I can see it in his eyes, Tenar is in danger and he can’t live with himself and I fear I don’t know how much longer he will last until he implodes, yes, he needs me to go.

*          *          *

I rustle Ged awake at the break of dawn as I couldn’t sleep and wanted to leave without rousing the kids or Anika, for me leaving without goodbyes would be the only way I could leave, and I have to for Ged. In stupor we pack our bags, fill our canteens and pack a light breakfast.

Stepping outside I inhale the morning air, it is heavy and hard to breath. Closing my eyes I take the first step of my journey…

“Vetch” it is Anika, she looks at me and I know in her eyes that she knows what I am off to do and she understands.

She continues.

"When we first met on Roke, I saw in your eyes what you thought of me, plain as day. Then and there I knew I wanted to see what I saw in that moment everyday, so come home to me Vetch. Bring him back to me Ged”.

With one last look, which felt like it lasted for hours, Ged and I turned away and crossed the plains towards the horizon and beyond.

Two companions who shared too few, too-brief moments all but alone at the edge of the world.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Commentary- Part 2

For my fan fiction I decided on depicting the fantasy realm of Earthsea from the view of Vetch in the near future. According to Vogler (1998; 1992), all great filmic narratives share a similar deep structure and can me organized into Act1, Act2 and Act 3. My piece of fanfic deals with the first Act, setting the scene and developing the conflict for the rest of the acts which should take up about 15% of a story. I only focused on Act1 as firstly it is just a short poece, but also Vetch is the best friend, the fun guy but never showed his inner turmoil or his desires in the book/film.

1.    Heroes are introduces in the ORDINARY WORLD, where

- Vetch is introduced in his quiet day-to-day family life

2. They receive the CALL TO ADVENTURE.

- Ged arrives and needs Vetch’s assistance to save his lover and the people from the evil Jasper

3. They are RELUCTANT at first or REFUSE THE CALL, but

- Vetch does not want to go but knows he must as Ged needs him and to keep his family from danger as his daughter is off to the school of Roke in the summer

4. are encouraged by a MENTOR to

- Anika see’s Ged leaving and accepts he must go and lets him go

5. CROSS THE FIRST THRESHOLD and enter the Special World,

- They leave the valley and start on their journey to the Port.

My fan fiction I believe does fit into Vogler’s general idea of character archetypes and mythic structures. According to Vogler (1998) there are 7 character archetypes; the Hero, the Mentor, the Threshold Guardian, the Herald, the Shapeshifter, the Shadow, and the Trickster. To Vogler (1998) they are “psychological realities and functions”.

In my fanfic Vetch is the Hero archetype although he is an unwilling hero, he will serve and sacrifice his comfortable life to help his friend and provokes sympathy from his audience by having to leave his family behind. As this fanfic is just based on Act1 I am sure if I wrote the next act Vetch will grow as the hero archetype by searching for a greater identify, overcoming obstacles and will have to act to a great degree to defeat jasper. The mentor is Ged who will motivate Vetch he is also the herald along with Anika- vetch’s wife as they motivate vetch to be the hero (by helping Ged and in turn keeping his wife safe). In my fanfic I have role reversed Ged and Vetch as in the Wizard of Earthsea Vetch was the friend, the sidekick and the herald whilst Ged was the hero/shadow.

Reference:

Vogler, C. (2008). The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers. California, United States: Michael Wiese Productions.

Brief Two: Fan Fiction (PKD)

I sit on my balcony and look down at the tiny cars below. Nicotine and caffeine give the morning a glazed look, and I know that this will probably be the happiest I’ll get today. Yesterday’s paper still sits on the table in front me, my own face handsomely staring back. The headline reads: Frank Costello’s true identity revealed! I read the introductory paragraph again,

When Abe Henderson published his first novel, he was so nervous about how it would be received he opted to publish under the pseudonym we’ve all grown accustomed to. When the novel ‘Dragonaut’ was published to critical acclaimed, Henderson decided to retain the Costello moniker, hoping his later works would capitalise on the early success. The first book in the ‘Holy Mountain’ series, a sprawling ‘psych-fi’ epic, launched Henderson (or rather, Costello) into international celebrity. Since then, with five more novels, two film adaptations and a third in the woodwork, Henderson has become one of this decade’s most prolific writers. The Times uncovers more of his story…

Something sinks inside my stomach. I still feel uncomfortable about this. It was my publicist Sandra’s idea; she thought it was time, right before the release of the last Holy Mountain book, to drop the bombshell and watch the public go crazy for it. I had always liked my anonymity, I was happy that I could walk into a movie theatre and watch a film adapted from my work and not one person would even look at me. Fame is not something I ever wanted. I just wanted to write and be left alone, and now I’ve compromised all of that. 

The gentle chime of the doorbell arouses me from this thought and I go to the door to answer. When I open it, nobody is there. I look left and right down the hall and see no one. It’s then that I notice the newspaper on the floor. Someone has bought me a paper. I don’t get the paper delivered, and I don’t understand. But then I do. The front page headlines read ‘Retraction: Frank Costello True Identity’, ‘Fraudster Impersonates Writer’ with a much less handsome and much smaller picture of me. My skin feels hot, I get lightheaded. I need to sit down.

I drop the paper and find a chair to collapse into. After a minute, I go to retrieve my phone, which is still on silent since I‘d screened two consecutive calls from Sandra much earlier that morning. Many more calls from her had been missed. I try her, but it goes to answer phone.

“Sandra Chinaski, Parkfield Entertainment, leave a message.” The shrill beep punches me in the brain.

“It’s Abe, we need to talk. Come over. Or call me... Please.”

          

      My phone slips out of my hand as I’m putting it on the table. I’m sweaty, and I feel all hot and gross. I begrudgingly walk to the shower, turn it on, remove my shorts and t-shirt and get in. How could this have happened in one day? I don’t get it. Who did this to me, and why? Jesus, I haven’t even read the article yet. Sandra will know the details. Did she leave voice mail? Why didn’t I check? Jesus. I hear the phone ringing and reach for a towel and run to the living room still wet and naked, drying as I run. Sandra’s finally getting back to me. I grab the phone.

                 “Hey, I’m freaking out a little bit here.” I say, as calmly as I can.

                “Is this Abe Henderson?” A man’s voice, deep, unfamiliar. I look at the phone display, it’s an unknown number. Why didn’t I check it? “Is this Abe Henderson?” He asks again, in the exact same tone.

                “Yeah, this is Abe. Who am I speaking to?”

                “This is Frank. We need to talk. I’m coming over. Where are you?”

                “Frank who? I don’t know a Frank.” I tried to think of a Frank I may have met at some point. I come up blank.

                “Abe. It’s Frank.” What the fuck. Who is calling me?

                “Look I don’t have time for this shit” I grab a smoke and head back to the balcony “I don’t know how you got this number, but don’t fucking call me again, or I’ll get the authorities involved.”

                “You’re in that New York penthouse aren’t you? I can hear the traffic outside. That’s New York traffic Abe. I can tell. I’ll see you soon.” He hangs up.

                I don’t know how long I stood there, those words froze me. Jesus. What the fuck? How did he know where I was? Did Sandra put someone up to this? If somebody’s really coming here then I’ll see who they are as soon as I open the door. Maybe all of this is some weird joke. Do I call the police? Do I get out of the country? I go to my room and put on jeans and a shirt. I stare at the mirror a while. Shit I look old.

                When I walk back into the living room I’m stopped dead in my tracks. He’s there, sitting on the couch, smoking a cigarette. Of course it’s him. Frank, the living embodiment of my adopted persona. He even looked exactly like I’d pictured him once, while tripping. A slightly younger, more handsome version of myself. Cooler too. I sat with him.  

                “What…” My head falls into my hands, and all of a sudden I can’t find words. “I, I just don’t know what’s… happening?”

                “I came to tell you that it’s over Abe. You’re not me. I’m me. You’re you. And you are Abraham Henderson. You didn’t create me. I created you. I wrote a short story when I was in college about an aging acid-fried writer who lost his mind and was convinced the ghost of his literary alter ego was haunting his apartment. Does that sound familiar Abe?”

                “That’s ridiculous! That’s my story, and where I took the name of… the character… Frank. Costello…” As I say it a massive weight comes off my shoulders. But not in a good way, leaving me feeling lighter, but also weak and hollow.

                “It’s over Abe. I’m killing you off. I can’t have you floating around anymore. You were a shit idea and now you’re giving me a headache.” My muscles tighten. “Oh shit! Don’t panic, I’m not gonna murder you Abe!” He laughs, smiling ear to ear. “I’ll write your suicide when I get… outta here. It won’t be a spectacle or anything, something subtle, easy, you know?”

                Breathing becomes increasingly difficult. Logic says there’s no way this can be happening. But it is. And I believe it. How could my own creation do this to me? Why am I not laughing in his face?

                “Abe. I’ll give you one chance. Prove to me you’re not the Abe Henderson I created. Become your own character. Get out of here. Be real. Don’t come back to the apartment, or up to the farm. Just get out of here, get out of this life and go find your own. Then I’ll let you live. I’ll give you two days to make a start, get as far away from here as possible.” He stands up, and walks toward the door. “Abe,” I stare back at him, because he commands it. “If you come back here, I’ll be waiting.” He winks, and then is gone.

                Near the elevator on the same level as Abe’s huge apartment, a man and a woman meet.

                “What happened? How did it go?” She stands close and speaks quietly.

                “Pretty well. He seemed, well, terrified. It was very strange.”

                “I know, look… thank you so much for taking the time out to do this. It means a lot to us. I know it’s extremely unconventional psychiatric treatment. Schizophrenia can be so sensitive and you’ve been amazing.”

                “It’s no trouble. In a way, I guess, it’s the ultimate flattery.” He says with a laugh that morphs into a solemn face towards its end. “He seems like a really troubled guy. I hope I’ve helped.”

                “You have, so much, I hope, and yes, he was a huge fan before all of this started.”

                “He must have been. His story is so intricate and detailed. It’s amazing. It must’ve been really hard to find that old story of mine too.”

“Yes, well, his family is of tremendous wealth and resources, thus the apartment. It also doesn’t help that he shares his name with your protagonist. Anyway, I should get in there. That’s pretty essential right now.”

                “Okay.” He almost takes a step away. “Oh, by the way, I saw that doctored newspaper in there, it looked great!”

                Already part way down the hall, she turns back to face him. “Oh, thanks. That was our IT guru. You’re cheque will be in the mail.”

                “Okay! Thanks Sandra.” 

Commentary:

                For my fan fiction I decided to take a slightly different approach to Philip K. Dick’s writing. Rather than creating a piece of fiction set inside the world of High Castle or A Scanner Darkly, or using characters from one of these texts, I decided to write a piece in the spirit of Dick’s writing, employing some of the themes that were present in both the texts we looked at in weeks seven and eight. In the scheme of fan fiction, I feel as though this is a slightly more enjoyable approach to take. Similar to a band, while regular fan fiction might be seen as a covers band of a great artist, my approach is more like that of a tribute band, playing in the style of the artist rather than playing the artist’s songs. 

                The main theme I’ve employed here is that of splintered identities, and the idea that the world is not as it seems. This theme was very much present throughout both High Castle and A Scanner Darkly. 

                In my fan fiction I employed elements of Vogler’s (1998) Mythic Structure. Act one, according to Vogler, “establishes setting, characters” and “raises the central question of the story.” The first three paragraphs establish the setting and character, while the fourth presents the catalyst; the newspaper dropped at Henderson’s door. This device “precipitates the first turning point” which is, of course, Henderson’s realisation that he has been labelled a fraud. 

                This turning point marks the transition into the second act, where Henderson “encounters numerous obstacles while trying to achieve a goal, reach a destination, or solve a crime.” In act two, Henderson is trying to come to terms with what’s happening. His obstacles include publicist Sandra’s apparent lack of availability, the ominous phone call from someone claiming to be his own fictional alter ego. During this time Henderson becomes increasingly anxious and panicked. The second turning point ultimately arrives in the form of Frank Costello “magically” appearing on his couch. According to Vogler’s theory, this “gives a new sense of urgency and momentum, pushing the story towards its conclusion.”

                Act three consists of our climax; where Costello reveals what is happening to Henderson. Vogler states that in this moment of climax, the “central question is answered.” We see Henderson struggling to understand this answer, and when the reader leaves Henderson in his apartment, the resolution takes place, which “ties up any loose ends.” The resolution sees Costello and Sandra speaking in the hallway, revealing  that the entire thing was an experiment in treating schizophrenia, and in fact, Henderson’s identity crisis existed only in his own head. 

                As an extra, I made reference to High Castle in naming Henderson. Abe Henderson is an extension of Dick’s character Abendson. I can’t say for certain whether the style I’ve employed reflects Dick’s work, but I feel as though I’ve captured the central theme as well as I can in such a short space.

                   Vogler, C. (2007). The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers. California, United States: Michael Wiese Productions.