In My Defense…

An Old Lady’s Random Thoughts on Writing and Fanfic

My twelve-year-old daughter loves to watch The Golden Girls with me in the evenings. She finds Sophia amusing and thinks Blanche is the best character ever! (Thankfully, she does acknowledge that Blanche has some issues when it comes to her obsession with men.) She watches each episode intently, taking everything in for the first or second time. I, on the other hand, can already quote most episodes verbatim, so the other night I decided to do a little writing while we watched.

At one point, during an ad break, she turned to me and asked what I was working on. I told her it was a chapter of a fanfiction story. To which she replied, “You need help, Mother! You write fanfiction as a forty-five-year-old woman! Most people get over that in like… eighth grade!” (Yes, all the exclamation points are necessary. Everything with her is very dramatic!) 

A moment later, the show came back on, and there was no responding to her. Actually, even if the show hadn’t come back on, she probably would have ignored my response. She tends to ignore most things I say these days. That is, when she’s not groaning or rolling her eyes at my comments. The poor child. It is hard to put up with me. So many of my ideas are completely annoying, archaic, or completely absurd. Anyway, she probably wouldn’t have listened, but if you’ve read this far, you might be apt to continue, so I’ll share my thoughts with you.

It is true that many middle school students write fanfiction. Many of my students do. Some of them may even write it reasonably well, though I probably couldn’t begin to tell you what their stories are based on. It could be about a Netflix series, a YouTube Channel, or a Tik Tok video for all I know. And their motivations, like mine, are probaby personal. I do not object to teenagers expressing themselves in this way. In fact, I encourage it. Writing, even for fun, is how writers get started. Writing anything and everything is how writers keep going. It’s how we hone our skills. New writers, experienced writers, even delusional old-lady writers like me.

Many people of all ages read and write fanfiction. My Twitter friends can attest to that. Why? Maybe because we want to right an on-screen wrong or explore an alternate outcome. (If the 1992 film Wayne’s World could explore the Mega Happy Ending and the Scooby Doo Ending, why can’t we?) And sometimes we write it because the show or the storyline has ended and we just want more. More adventures, more explanations, more romance… Whatever the reason, it boils down to one simple truth. We want to give more life to the characters we love. That’s no different than TV execs creating spin offs. How else would we have gotten form Dallas to Knots Landing or Dynasty to The Colbys. (Okay, money could be a factor in those cases, but the people who watched them wanted more. And maybe not all spin-offs were quality. As much as I love The Golden Girls, Golden Palace was no gem. But I digress.) Fanfiction writers are like novelists creating a series of prequels or sequels so they can explore the backstories or happily ever after bits. The difference is, we’re not doing it for money, we’re doing it for love of the game.

When I’m not working on my novels, I write about Soap Operas. Specifically, my most favorite characters ever from General Hospital – Robert and Anna. I didn’t create those characters, but I know them. (Maybe better than the writers on the show, but that’s an entirely different post! Shhh!) And writing about them gives me a chance to delve into their psyches and walk around in their heads. It’s great practice for working on character development and definition, even if the are not CKT originals. Writing their stories allows me to stand on a familiar shore, but wade into a whole new sea of writing experiences. I can keep exercising my romance muscles (Does that sound a little risque to anyone else? Too bad, I’m leaving it!), but learn new strokes in mystery, suspense, and intrigue. The extra practice helps me with style and presentation as well. So why should a serious writer spend time writing such a frivolous thing as fanfiction? If I can improve my skills and have a good time doing it, why wouldn’t I?

There is one risk that comes with writing a just-for-fun piece. I remind myself of this risk frequently. (Here it comes. #WriteTip by Cat K Thompson) Don’t let frivolity and fun lull you into a false sense of security. Enjoy yourself, but remember, if you intend to share the piece online or anywhere else, you want it to be a respectable piece of writing. Honor the characters. They are worthy of the time it takes to create a quality piece. If your organization is all over the place, if your grammar is a mess and you don’t know how to punctuate, it will affect the reader’s experience. Some readers may not care. They may read it anyway, just for fun. But your style and use of language will say something about you as a writer and can definitely affect the delivery or intent of the material, especially with regard to dialog. This is less of a concern for those who are casual writers than for those who also hope to encourage people to read their published works. (Don’t let me get started on Indie Authors who thing editors are unnecessary! That’s another post too!) But I think it’s reasonable to say that most of us want our readers to enjoy reading our stories as much as we enjoy writing them.

Now, back to my daughter’s observation and what she doesn’t know. She doesn’t realize that I actually wrote my first piece of #GH #RnA fanfic when I was a freshman in high school. Truth be told, I didn’t realize it then either. That was before FanFiction.Net. Possibly even before the internet. (I’m that old!) I didn’t know that what I was writing had a name. All I knew what that I had to write a one act play and create some cover art for an assignment in English class. I came up with a play called Opposing Forces about two international spies who fell in love and were on the run from their archnemesis, Klaus. The beautiful heroin, who was shot and died in the arms of her gorgeous, blue-eyed lover at the end of the act, bore a striking resemblance to my favorite soap character. Of course, even if I had called it fanfiction, I probably wouldn’t have had the guts to admit my love of General Hospital to my teacher, and certainly not to my classmates. But I’m older and wiser now. I know who I am. I like who I am. I like what I write. So, to my darling girl I say, as long as there are still people out there who want to read my fanfic, (Many of whom are also hovering around the big four-five! #JustSaying) I’m going to keep writing it!

Note: For those who are wishing I would stop writing fanfic and finish that darn book… I hear you! Suffice it to say that it has been a complicated couple of years in both life and writing. I promise I am working on it. I promise I will do my very best to ensure that, when the third book in the Lily trilogy finally arrives, it will have been worth the wait. Your support and encouragement are appreciated more than you know!

Endgame Chapter 3 – Apologies

Greetings readers! Here is the third chapter to my General Hospital Fanfic saga. If you are not a GH fan, I hope you will find it at least mildly entertaining.  If you are interested, chapters one and two are previous posts. You can also follow me on Fanfiction.net at  http://www.fanfiction.net/~catkthompson

ENDGAME

Chapter 3

APOLOGIES

“Madame Devane, I assure you, this is completely normal,” Dr. Birchmeier said, dropping Robert’s eyelid and putting the tiny flashlight back into the pocket of his crisp white coat. “Patients who have been in a coma do not often snap of it as they do in the movies. He has been unresponsive eight months. The fact that Mr. Scorpio was awake at all is very encouraging.”

“Isn’t there anything else we can do?” Anna asked, sounding impatient.

“I’m afraid not. It is up to him.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor. I don’t mean to be… It’s just that patience isn’t really one of my virtues.”

“I understand that it is difficult, but we must give him time.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Anna nodded.  She saw him to the door and closed it behind him. She turned back to Robert and sighed. “That’s the trouble, Robert. I don’t know how much time we have.” She sat back down and gave his leg a gentle rub through the blankets.

Moments later, she was up and pacing again. “Ugh! God, Robert!” she said, throwing her head back and staring up at the ceiling. “Don’t do this to me. Wake up, will you? Please. Just… Wake up!” She wiped a tear from her cheek.

When she got tired of pacing, she pulled a chair closer to the door so anyone entering would have to get past her, and climbed into it. She hugged her knees to her chest and rested her head on them. Not having had a good night’s sleep in quite some time, she unintentionally drifted off again. She awoke some time later to a rustling sound, and was on her feet, gun drawn in less than a second.

“Put that away, will you?” he said weakly.

“Oh my God! Robert, what the hell are you doing?”

He was standing, or at least attempting to stand, gripping the bedside table to keep from collapsing onto the floor.

She holstered her weapon and rushed to his side. “Here, let’s get you back into bed.”

“I don’t want to get back into bed. I’ve spent the last twenty minutes trying to get out of bed. Too many damn tubes,” he muttered, tugging at the IV lines and yanking one of them out entirely.

“Oh, honey, don’t.”

He tried to take a step and his knees buckled beneath him.

“Oh, Robert…” She gasped, kneeling next to him. “Why didn’t you call for me?”

“I didn’t want to startle you. You know you can be a little too trigger happy.”

‘’Hush.”

“Well, I was right, wasn’t I? Why are you carrying anyway?”

“I’m always carrying these days, remember?  It comes with the job.” She didn’t want to get him anymore worked up with the idea of possible threats just yet. “Come on. Up you go.” She wrapped her arms around him and hoisted him onto his feet.

“Yes, Commissioner. But…,” he struggled to get the words out in between breaths, “I couldn’t help but notice… you were guarding the door.” He was still fighting to stay standing as she tried to back him up toward the bed, but in his current condition, she was winning the battle.

“Well, I know how you hate to be fussed over and the doctors wouldn’t leave you alone. Now, sit.”

He sat, but not gracefully. He still had hold of her as he practically fell on to the bed and she all but fell on top of him. Their eyes met. She could see the mixture of emotions in his, and she quickly stood back up and looked away, afraid of what he might read in hers.

“Sorry. I guess I don’t have my sea legs back,” he joked.

“That’s perfectly understandable,” she said, with a small, awkward smile.

He stared at her as if her were discovering her face for the first time, even though he’d memorized every inch of it long ago. He couldn’t help thinking of all the other times she’d come to his hospital bedside. Each time, under the threat of death, they’d admitted their love for each other, but something, or someone, had always managed to come between them. He hoped this time would be different—that it would finally lead to their happily ever after.

His arms were still around her as she stood between his legs. He watched her bite her bottom lip. She often did that when she was nervous or contemplative.  She wasn’t trying to be provocative, but it had that effect on him all the same. “I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered, taking a strand of her hair in his fingers.

Anna felt herself tense. Robert fiddling with her hair was usually a sign that he was planning to kiss her. The thought scared the hell of her, but as much as she hated to admit it, it thrilled her too.

He shook his head and smiled again.

“What?” she asked quietly.

“Nothing. You just remind me of someone,”

“Who is that?”

“A shorter-haired Nurse Feelgood,” he teased, reminding her of the time she’d played nursemaid to him in his penthouse. That time, his recovery ended with the two of them making love in the middle of the Port Charles Earthquake. Just a few months later they were married for the second time.

Anna giggled at the memory and her laughter filled him with joy. Her reaction was all the assurance he needed. He inched one hand up her back and pulled her closer while the other hand cradled her head. He tilted his head and went in for a kiss.

The touch of his lips on hers was electrifying. She knew she should stop him, but it was almost impossible to fight the primal, physical reaction. What started as a slow, gentle kiss quickly became an intense, passionate, fiery kiss that would have been enough to make any onlooker blush.

“Robert, we shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered when they finally came up for air.

“Yes, we should,” he said, trying to pick up where he’d left off.

“No. Robert. You just came out of a coma. You can barely even stand.”

“All the more reason to make sure everything else is still in working order.”

“Robert, I’m serious,” she said, untangling herself from his embrace. She lifted the blankets and helped his legs onto the bed.

“So was I,” he said with a sigh.

“No. You need to get your strength back. Quickly. We have more important things to worry about right now.”

“You’re right.”

“I am? I mean… Yes. Of course I am,” she corrected as she fluffed his pillow.

“Yes. We should be worrying about Robin.”

“What about her?” Anna said, pressing her slips together.

“Where is she?”

“Robert…”

“Is she still here?”

Anna stared at him. The look on his face was completely serious. The effects on his memory were obviously worse that she had feared. She cleared her throat. “Robert… Robin is… gone.”

“Did she make it home safely?”

“Robert, please…“

“Anna, she was here.”

Anna shook her head. Luke must have told him that she’d gone searching for Robin after her death. She’d ended up at the clinic, thinking she would somehow find Robin alive. Tears filled her eyes as she tried to figure out how to break the news to Robert all over again.

“She was here,” he said again when she didn’t answer.

“No. She wasn’t. I thought that too, Robert. I thought that.” She balanced on the edge of the bed. “I believed Heather Webber, that crazy psycho. She told me she’d seen her. She said—never mind.  I shouldn’t have listened to her. She was only using my grief to get to me. Anyway, I came here hoping to find her—to find Robin. But… ” She stopped, gasping for breath through her tears. “It wasn’t her, Robert. I thought I’d found her, but it was just another dark haired girl that looked a lot like her from a distance.”

Anna looked down, trying to pull herself together. Robert took her hand in his. She looked up at him. His eyes were wet too. All she could do was shake her head again.

“I was so sure,” he said. His face took on a sad frown.

“So was I,” Anna said. “God, I was so stupid. I was just following a pipedream, wishing that our daughter was still alive. But she’s gone, Robert. Our little girl is gone.”

The two of them sat there with tears streaming down their cheeks. They had no more words. They didn’t need any. Anna looked at Robert, her lip quivering. He opened his arms and she crawled into them. She sobbed as he held her, finally finding the comfort that no one else had been able to give her—the release that she’d needed all along, knowing that she no longer had to bear the burden of grief alone.

“Anna,” Robert said, still holding her close to him.

“Hmmm?” she groaned into his chest.

“I’m so… I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” she asked, raising her head.

“For leaving you. Of all the things we’ve ever done to each other—“

“Don’t,” she said, wanting to ease the pain in his eyes.

“I should have been there. You should never have had to mourn our baby alone. I should have been there.”

“Yes you should have,” she admitted. “But I know why you weren’t. You were trying to save Ethan.”

“I can’t believe I fell for that line. Spencer and Holly made the whole thing up. Not just the part about him being my son, but the fact that he was even in danger, that Helena was after him. The whole damn thing was a lie. You warned me about Holly. Once a con artist, always a con artist, but I didn’t listen. I ran off with her when I should have been with you. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“I do.”

“You do?”

She nodded. “I forgive you.”

“Really?”

She nodded again. “I have to. I need you too much to waste any more time being angry with you.”

“God, Anna. I need you too.” He gazed into her eyes as they lay face to face on his pillow. Those deep, warm, brown eyes were like windows to her soul and in them he could see his past, present, and future. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He swallowed hard and said, “I… love you, Anna Devane.”

“I love you too, Robert Scorpio,” she said, forcing the words past the lump in her throat.

He smiled as he wiped the last remaining tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb, then he kissed her cheek where the tear had been.

She closed her eyes, avoiding the desirous look in his cool baby blues. It would be so easy to get swept up in the powerful history of their love—so easy to let him carry her away again.

He knew she was right about him needing time to get his strength back. He couldn’t possibly prove his love to her physically. Not at the moment, anyway. Not the way he wanted to. But he was content just to be holding her, to be so close to her after all the time they’d spent apart. He relished the sound of her voice, the smell of her skin, and the way her body fit perfectly with his, like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. He tenderly kissed her eyelids. Her lips parted and a soft sigh escaped. He kissed her cheeks again.

“Robert…” she said, her voice more breathy than it was before.

“Anna,” he whispered, his lips moving across her jawline and settling behind her ear.

“Robert, no. Stop. Please.”

“Anna?” he looked at her, confused, as she peeled herself out of his arms and stood up again.

“We can’t do this.”

“Anna, you’re killing me here.”

“I’m sorry, Robert. I’m sorry. I…”

“What is it?”

She shook her head and started to pace again, hands on her hips, looking down at the floor.

“What happened to I need you, Robert,” he asked.

“I do need you!” she cried, turning to face him again. “I need you… as my friend, my confidant, the father of my child—but not as my lover.”

“Anna, I just told you that I love you and you said—”

“I know what I said. I meant it. I love you. I will… always love you, Robert. But we’re no good for each other. You know that, as well as I do.”

“I don’t know that at all!”

“Yes you do. Come on, Robert. Think about it. Every time we get romantically involved, one of us gets shot or blown up, drug, brainwashed, or God only knows what else.”

“But we do get the bad guys… eventually, don’t we? Anna, we make a great team.”

“Yes, but we also make a bigger target.”

“What are you talking about,” he asked, sensing there was more to this story than she was telling him.

She ignored his question. “And even if that weren’t the case,” she went on, “I just… can’t be with you now.”

“Why not?”

“Because… I’m not available anymore.”

“I see.” He looked defeated. “Spencer?”

“No. I ended things with Luke when I found out that he lied to you about Ethan. I’m talking about Duke.”

“Lavery?”

“Yes. Don’t you remember? After they took Faison away, you came here with me because I thought that Duke might still be alive.”

“And we found him.”

“Yes. Faison and that awful woman, Dr. Obrecht, had been holding him prisoner.”

“She’s the one who injected me with—”

“With Propofol. Yes.”

“And I’ve been out ever since?”

“Yes. Duke and I stayed for a while. Then Holly came and—”

“Holly?”

“Yes. She offered to stay. I didn’t want to leave you Robert, but I had to. I—”

“Never mind, Anna. Save it. You had to go back to Port Chuck and pick up where you left off with Lavery, the real love of your life. I get it.”

“It isn’t quite that simple, but we are together,” she said apologetically. The hurt in his voice had not eluded her.

“Does he know you’re here?”

“Of course.”

“He used to be the jealous type. I can’t believe he’d let you run off to Switzerland to be with me. Has he matured in his old age?

“Well, first of all, nobody lets me do anything. You ought to know that. Second, he’s matured at least as much as you have,” she said with a hint of sarcasm, “and third, I didn’t come here just to be with you.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I had reason to believe that one of us was in danger. “ She pulled the two identical clues from her jacket pocket and explained how she’d come to possess them.

“May I see them?” he asked.

She handed him the pieces of paper and went on talking. “So, I don’t know if this is another one of Faison’s evil schemes or Helena’s or—“

“It isn’t either one of them,” he broke in. “It’s Robin.”

“What?”

“It’s always midnight somewhere. It’s a message from Robin, Anna. It wasn’t my memory playing tricks on me. I wasn’t imagining it. Robin’s alive!”