DEATH OF A FANFICTION WRITER

EPOCH I: In The Beginning There Was Light

I decided to abandon everything that I was doing, I decided to destroy everything I had written up to that moment, I decided I was going to start anew, I decided I was going to murder my old self, I decided I was going to inhabit a new body, I decided that I was going to start writing under a new name, I decided that I was going to make sure that every single fan fiction I had ever written from "Draco Malfoy x Reader" to "Mater from Cars Falls In Love With One of the Balloons from the Movie 'Up'" was deleted off the face of internet, I decided I was going to pick at my hair every time I thought about one of my old writings and "Pavlov's dog" myself into never thinking about them ever again, I decided I was going to do this until every last strand of my hair had crusted off, I decided that I was going to write something, I decided I would write begin to write something that transcended all fan fiction; I will write something, I thought as I lay on the dusty, cobwebbed floor of my parents' basement, that transcends, all forms of art, all of the depraved fanfics of Watt-pad, and everything that has ever been, will be, or is being written on the greatest fiction collection that the world has ever known for I will transcend all of the wannabe authors, the 15 year olds who keep a secret Wattpad account separate from the one that they write on - God forbid the extent of grounding or disownment their parents would unleash upon them if they even knew a sixth of his search history on that site - and I will finally know what it feels like to write for a purpose that is greater than myself, there will finally be a reason for all those sleepless nights spent re-organising my writing desk high on Melatonin and God knows what else, and I can finally tell my parents that me and the basement dwelling insects that have merged into one conscience finally have a justifiable explanation for having not gone outside in five months! It will be wonderful! I have decided to embark on the writing of my opus, nay, my odyssey, nay, my 60 chapter spanning epic of words so impactfully Earth-shattering it would make everyone who has ever dreamed of being a writer go into catatonic shock called:

"Spongebob Squarepants meets Lightning McQueen at Hogwarts."

I have dabbled in the ancient texts of the anthropomorphic sponge himself, in all of his loveable goofster majesty, in all of his Krabby Patty culinary prowess, but I had never dared write his holy name from pen to paper, from mind to story, it had never crossed the epochs of my mind nor the endless paragraphs of my Fanfiction stockpile to even utter his name but I feel that today must be the day I am to bring my vision of him to the page. 

I am more than familiar, of course, with the sprawling chronicles of Lightning McQueen told across three cinematic instalments and various cash-grab spinoffs by John Lasseter produced only for streaming (for the more seasoned among you: Mater's Tall Tales). I am more than comfortable bringing his aura to the page, and if you were an enthusiast of my regrettably embarrassing and borderline sinful work as "goofyethan73" than you may know of my twenty-five chapter narrative: Lightning McQueen discovers Tyler the Creator.

I don't want to go into much detail regarding the plot, as it is a sprawling and complex multi-character epic that tackles a lot of intertwining themes, but the basic gist of it is that Lightning is given a copy of IGOR by his tow-truck pal Mater and he goes on an ambitious quest to meet the man himself and hopefully collaborate on a song.

I won't spoil the tonal shifts in the piece, but eventually the two meet and things don't go down quite as you'd expect.

The novel now only exists in the Recently Deleted folder in the Hard Drive of my Mac mini, meaning that in around 30 days no one will ever be able to read it ever again.

I hate the sound of my own writing, I really do, but as I reflect on my old works that are soon to be destroyed forever and only exist as passing phrases in the back of mind I look upon that one fondly and find myself wishing that it didn't have to go sometimes.

And setting the piece in Hogwarts would prove a great cerebral challenge, as I have only seen the first three Harry Potter flicks and read a few words of the fourth book as books are for nerds, and I might accumulate a great deal of controversy for even attempting to replicate the writings of a hackless bigot who should have her thumbs cut off so she can't tweet anymore.

I wonder what would happen if some of the great literary geniuses had access to Twitter, would one cancellable Tweet render their entire bibliography unredeemable?

The point is: I'm dipping my toes into deep, unfathomable water by writing this. I am entering worlds that have never been explored by I, Ethan previously known under seperate pseudonyms "goofyethan73" and "ethandonttouchgrass" and now - as I delve into more highbrow literary endeavours - under "seriousethan23", partially because I'd like to neaten my writing chops, partially to allow myself to step outside my comfort zone, and partially because I see this as a form of writing-instigated self-destruction as I chronically hate myself.

Writing this will be torture, even more-so than living, and I would like to torture myself for some reason because no one who writes this lacklustre and pretentious about Harry Potter Cars Spongebob fusion fanfic deserves to go unpunished and also because the first step to ego death is mind death and this work will certainly destroy me. But there is some masochistic part of me that will also find pleasure in writing this, something about the creative process is so rewarding yet so suicide inducing at the same time, and I've always found myself chasing the feeling of "it's finally over" no matter how much pain I make myself endure. 

I sit at my desk and breathe in the Croydon smog. Sweaty Wattpad crustaceans, I'm coming for you.