#PLEASE P L E A S E TAG YOUR SHIT CORRECTLY

[broken-synchronicity]

Something that came up recently in discord with @/shuuenmei and @/klonoadreams and friends

And it has occurred to a lot of us older writers, especially now with the prominent use of the AO3 tagging system, is that younger writers seem to have trouble grasping the difference between the kinds of 'insert' fanfics.

So, as someone who has written all the variations there off, I've decided to try and write a reference sheet for what the differences between an OC-insert, a Self-insert, and a Reader-insert.

The OC-Insert

"I have created a character and will put them in a situation."

Everyone has an OC or a dozen, whether or not you've done anything with them. It's a right of passage of sorts for young artists and writers to create their cringe angsty OP character for their favorite show/game. We've ALL done it, it's how we learn how to make better characters for later projects, or practice new ideas.

In writing, the OC-insert fanfic will often have hallmarks of:

Wish fulfillment often in the form of a fix-it of some form, expansion of Canon, or the proposition of a Canon divergence idea (especially in the case of the OC being related to a Canon Character)

The OC having very little to no (known) traits shared with the author, and is often heavily described or even given a character reference sheet

The OC often is already a part of the world they're made for with taylor made powers or skills, or, in the case of a particular kind of wish fulfillment often seen in younger writers, an OP OC meant to allow the author to do what they want

However, the OC is often still limited in knowledge of events as with the rest of the characters, even if they might find out faster than in canon

Often written in the Third Person (he/she/it/they), occasionally in First Person, and almost never in Second Person

The OC-insert is the creation of a character to allow the author to present their idea. OCs are often ways to practice writing traits or scenes a writer isn't used to writing with a character they know 100% about in a world they mostly know.

Think D&D, you make a character and make them react to situations they are presented with. This is the OC-insert.

The Self-insert

"I am putting myself in a situation."

The Self-insert happens nearly as frequently as the OC-insert, if not more. It is the Author placing themself, or in the case of the SIOC, a very close apprximation of themself, into the show/game of their liking.

The hallmarks of a Self-insert fic include:

Also often wish fulfillment, but in the form of escapism and occasionally power fantasies. Often fix-its when in regards to canon story.

The Author proxy usually enters the world from our own via any sort of means. Reincarnation after death, magic, making deals with deities/demons, anything.

The proxy usually has most of the knowledge of the world they are entering, or on the rare occasion, very little to none. There is often no in between.

The proxy may or may not gain skills or power native to the world. In the case of SIOC, the proxy may already have some minor helpful skills. The proxy can become OP, but doesn't often start like that.

Self-inserts are often more realistic looks into the world they are inserted into, expanding on many issues and hidden scenes that might have occurred in canon

Most often written in First Person (I, Me, My), occasionally in other povs. I personally write Kal in Second Person as a stylistic choice.

The Self-insert is for the Author, to show how they personally would have reacted, or helped, or gone about something. It is a catharsis for some authors in some ways, a way to deal with emotions or situations that they can't IRL.

Think games with player inserts, particularly RPGs with branching paths, or old Pick your Adventure type stories where you pick an answer at the end of the part and then go to the corresponding page of that answer. These are how you, the author, are reacting and choosing.

Most fanfics that follow the story for games/shows like Twst are one of the above two; LiT, for instance, is an SIOC.

The Reader-Insert

"I am putting you, the reader, in a situation."

Reader-inserts are all over, but they most frequent in places where there is a high level of Fandom interaction, like here on Tumblr. Reader-inserts are generally very short, and often only about how canon characters react to presented situation. These are your "x reader" blogs and tags.

Reader-inserts often have hallmarks of:

Almost always prompt based wish fulfillment of the highest order. 98% of all reader-inserts are simply for readers to love on a character of their choosing without consequence

Most have no basis in canon, or only have canon as a setting and are very minorly reactionary to Canon events

There are very, very few reader insert fics that are well written to follow along with a Canon story, and even then, the "reader" character will gain definite traits and can break immersion and even eventually be considered an OC

The "reader" will almost never be described unless it's part of the prompt to help with immersion, and may occasionally be referred to by a nickname of some kind, but otherwise will have a blank space ("____") or (Y/N) to show where your own name may be placed, or any other traits in some case.

It is also often headcanon central, with a lot of authors' ideas as to how a Canon Character will react to a given prompt.

Almost always written in Second Person (You), very, very rarely anything else.

Reader-inserts are often.... poor quality, as stated, because they are wish fulfillment and do not often undergo any rigorous editing like a story based fic. But they can be used to practice how an author can write their idea of a particular character or a specific (often romantic) scenario.

Think otome games and imagine blogs here on tumblr. Most of the time, it's less you, the player reacting and them the characters reacting to your choices.

None of the above things are bad to write. Hell, I was a mod for an imagine blog for years, and it did indeed help with how I write. They all have ways to help a writer grow, but they are all very different forms of fics. You can't look at a self-insert and call it a reader-insert because it's not you, the reader being inserted, it's the Author. It's not an OCxCharacter story if it's the reader who's supposed to fill in the details.

So PLEASE, for the love of god, tag your fics correctly.

[clotpolesonly]

I was tagged by @tinylilemrys​!!!! =)

a - age: 23 b - biggest fear: not a clue tbh, probably something really existential and hard to determine lol c - current time: 10:08am d - drink you last had: water e - every day starts with: alarm going off 40 minutes early so i can lounge in bed for half an hour and check all my various websites on my phone before getting up f - favorite song: that’s not even fair okay, i’m gonna go with How Far I’ll Go from Moana cuz it’s what i’ve currently got stuck in my head, so there g - ghosts, are they real: probably not idk i can’t really rule it out so maybe? h - hometown: Tallahassee FL i - in love with: a whole slew of fictional characters, in an abstract sort of way j - jealous of: no one, really, i guess k - killed someone: uh no? l - last time you cried: a few weeks ago, i kind of had an emotional breakdown over the problems i’ve been having with my voice. i tried to sing along to one of my favorite songs, couldn’t manage it properly, and sat alone in my apartment and ugly-cried for a solid hour because singing is kind of half of my identity and i am legit distraught :)))) m - middle name: Lindsey n - number of siblings: one older sister o - one wish: can my voice go back to normal please? like PLEASE???? p - person you last texted/called: my mom texted this morning so say she was here to pick me up for work, if that counts q - questions you are always asked: “oh you were an english major? do you write?” *nervous sweating* r - reasons to smile: fiction exists and is always expanding, and fanfiction exists and is always fixing fiction lol s - song last sang: How Far I’ll Go, i was listening to it last night and seeing if i’m still capable of producing good sound =/ t - time you woke up: ~7:48am v - vacation destination: idk man i just want to climb around on ancient ruins and explore like ancient temples and shit w - worst habit: i keep finding these little tiny clothespins and not only clicking them obsessively but also clipping them onto myself, like on the pads of my fingers or the webbing between my fingers or my nose or my lip or my earlobe, and leaving it there until i lose all feeling in that part of my body. it totally hurts and is completely illogical and my sister looks very worried whenever she sees me doing it and inevitably steals my tiny clothespin and throws it away =( x - x-rays you’ve had: i only ever had one x-ray and it was for gastrointestinal purposes if i remember correctly, i was pretty young y - your favorite food: i love me some kraft microwavable mac n cheese, not gonna lie, i’m easy like that z - zodiac sign: leo

Tagging: @agenderemrys, @sneezing-appa, @prince-pratdragon, @princessspendragon, @stileshale, @demisexualhale

[declassroomedteach-blog]

Jailhouse Salvation 101

Jailhouse Salvation 101

(word count approx 1570)

By Gina Fournier

 The Merchant-Ivory movie adaptation of E. M. Forster’s A Room with a View features a poignant scene following a street fight that ends in murder.  Lucy (Helen Bonham Carter) comments that you witness something memorable and think you’ll never be the same, but then you forget and return to your old self.  I hope to do a better job holding onto my jailhouse conversion, from skeptical to convinced about the existence of God.  

 Disclaimer: My conviction has wavered intensely even before I finished editing this essay.

Thanks to my former employer and its bad actors, an institution I’ll call Land of Motown Community College, where I served as an English teacher, I’ve seen the best and the worst of pure Michigan humanity.  If God created humans, God sure must have a sense of humor.

Even a smattering of details from my story sound like a rollercoaster Lifetime movie no one wants to watch.  Since 2012, I’ve been sexist witch-hunted through an ongoing living nightmare that has included hack shrinks, illegal and involuntary lock up in a Catholic mental health ward and now incarceration for thirty-four days in a mid-Michigan county jail for a crime I did not commit. College administrators, union teachers, dirty cops, dirty doctors, dirty nuns and dirty priests, plus the state’s top most government officials, have participated in the protection of white collar criminals and encouraged my simultaneous downfall.   All this for me, so one man can prove his power over unions near union ground zero.

The U.S. Constitution’s first amendment makes clear that government is not to establish any official religion, not protect any particular religion from existing laws. Perhaps the founding fathers could foresee the distant future.  Nearly two hundred fifty years later, a female citizen has found cause to invert the phrase “God bless you” with blasphemy, attempting to redress grievances.  

I’ve never met the emergency room doctor who signed me into a Catholic looney bin for a week.  To my horror, I was held in a Catholic Siberia, it turns out, on campus with my all girl Catholic high school.  I was raised and violated by the same church, which now pretends it’s never met me.  Thirty five years ago, for Halloween, classmates mimicked the Robert Redford movie Brubaker to stage a failed, backboneless prison break.  These classmates, who have also turned away from my plight, dressed not in hospital gowns or orange as the new black, but plaid skirts and knee socks adorned temporarily with stripes. (Good girls, we stopped mock rioting when the nuns glared.)

Unfortunately, there is no law or principle governing the intersection of religion and families.   In my time of need, even my immediate and extended family has turned away, exponentially multiplying my distress.  My extended Catholic family has not advocated for me, though it would cost nothing except some skin.  The anger caused by this and so many betrayals envelops like nuclear explosion.

However, I realized something on day thirty-three of my lock up in the big house.  Because the ties between families and religion tend to act like strangleholds, my estranged Catholic mother is incapable of doing the one thing I want and need her most to do: to demand that Livonia Catholics honestly investigate me claims.  Because of my new found belief, I forgive my aging mother.  She’s only human and doing the best she can.  (Unfortunately, the damage done feels irreparable.  Forgiveness does not mean I can tolerate her presence.)

Through five solid years of loss, I have been cornered mentally and financially into a nearly impossible position.  But the kindest of strangers have helped me to survive.  Downstate, nice generous neighbors responded to my cries for help by giving. Up north, the same.   People have given money, food, house wares, helpful supplies such as wood, shoes, warm clothes, plus their time and honest well wishes.  I wish I would have kept better track of the names and faces of the many regular people who have been so kind, forming a lifeline, keeping me alive.

My fighting spirit has kept better track of my transgressors, including Fox News Detroit, which ran a sexist hack piece in 2015 cutting together footage I asked them not to shoot in order to make me look looser than loopy.  In search of more positive and helpful press, my creative and liberal mind encouraged me to tag my own, downstate old-ring suburban home with a metaphoric phrase that offended and confused.  “A religious figure criminally violated me!” Only my version was Twitter-short.  Basic sentence: subject, verb, object.  

Passersby assumed I was nutz.  I’m not. Unfortunately, the human resources’ labor attorney and architect of my nightmare is smart enough to know that once a crone-aged female is labeled crazy dangerous, most people won’t bother to parse the facts.  Just ask Hillary.  Voters elected a man without ethics, unwilling to practice stability, a sexual harasser, eager to “lock her up!”

I recreated my civil rights protest up north at a lake named after the largest city in New Brunswick. Maybe I watched too many episodes of Little House on the Prairie, after numerous rereadings of the Laura Ingalls Wilder books.  In middle age, without an income, I’ve been forced to gather wood and water for two years, for two winters, with a third approaching, in order to survive in my dead husband’s summer cabin, which is facing tax forfeiture, and soon.  In both iterations, I repainted my eye-catching sacrilegious phrase with “Act Peace.”  I’m not a bad person, or dangerous, or interested in spreading evil. But Fox News Detroit has been not interested in my actual story.  

While I was incarcerated, nasty locals ran down my mailbox to which my sign “Act Peace” was nailed, and then took the sign.  Two paintings espousing the Statue of Liberty have been stolen.  My sign about the connection between the dirty cop who put me in jail and Land of Motown Community College was stolen, I’d guess by the dirty cop.  My cries for “help!” with needed justice have been ignored.  Instead, community officials at this private lake community have bent the law with the help of dirty local county officials, who may try to re-arrest me over the care of my feces.  Yes, you read correctly.  My troubles continue.  Danger surrounds. This is not a pretty story.

(FYI. Please believe me. I’m still be getting my proverbial shit together, but I’ve always I properly and responsibly discarded my poop.)

Something wicked this way came, and stayed, but I pray to harness goodness and finally slay the beast on my back. I’ve been falsely accused of being suicidal and a danger to society within a country that has grown accustomed to men mass murdering and sexual harassing.  I know the pain of mental illness in the form of mental torture, so I feel very sympathetic to those, especially military veterans, who suffer from PTSD.  Mental pain is real.  And can be excruciating.  I realize no matter my idiosyncratic tendencies, finally winning a measure of justice will require the help of other people, and, well, by any name, I guess God.  I know that God may not intercede with my legal and financial problems but belief in a higher power does help with gratefulness and tranquility.

In jail, every day is a good day to die.  However, the smallest graces save a tattered soul and help a person carry on to the next long minute.   I want to thank the two women who ran Bible study every Tuesday.  Yes, you read correctly.  Unbeknownst to them, they gave me gold for a writer without means: a composition notebook, on my 54th birthday, which was an otherwise desolate milestone.  Moreover, these women of God showed me a respectable and inspirational version of Christianity.

On cable tv, my cellmates preferred back-to-back episodes of Cops, shows about zombies, the shallow high jinks of Jerry Springer, endless sci-fi.  (I prefer comedy and drama.)  The day I was eventually sprung from the slammer, my legal troubles abated but not erased, Unsolved Mysteries ran a segment on St. Pio, an Italian priest who was said to develop stigmata and miraculously heal.  Angered, under stress, I admit I acted out loudly like an ass (even by jail standards): “I hope they roast his nuts!”  

Many jail birds claim to accept Jesus as their savior, though none gave up their bottom bunk for the pregnant woman in our ranks.  Critically, I recognized around me the kind of souls who would have rejected Mary and Joseph. But I was forced to realize this was not a television segment that was going to uncover more Catholic dirt.  Although St. Pio may have self-inflicted his wounds, trapped in a county cell block, I dropped my bad attitude and truly felt in my body an undeniable wave of love.      

No surprise, in the short time since my release on PR bond, my nascent jailhouse conversion has been tested and wavered, fallen apart, and needing rebuilding.  Im not a saint.  My days are terrifying and unresolved.  But.  If I breathe calmly and deeply, and repeat my affirmations, what some call prayers, I recognize a connection between hope and light.    

House of Hope in Hersey, Michigan, offered me a composition notebook.  Any additional help readers may offer with legal defense, plumbing, back taxes, transportation, work or grace are appreciated. Thank you.  

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