Every once in a while, fandom is beset upon by a series of somewhat aggressive arguments about the function of accuracy in film/tv adaptations. The best of these follow my own path, which involves assessing the work on its own terms before going back to look at how it functions as an adaptation. The worst of these, however, fall into a familiar trap of damnation by comparison — typically by comparing an adaptation to fan fiction.
Essentially, the argument goes, substantial deviations from the source material make a work more fan fiction than adaptation; by doing so, these works become worse off. Fan fiction, in other words, is, by implication, a lesser form of art.
None of this, of course, is particularly surprising. While many fan fiction writers and the community which surrounds them find great value in fan fiction and its various related works (fan art, etc.), there has always been a side of the broader fan community which views such works as a lesser fan pursuit, artistically weak, or, in the most brutal rejection, contemptable garbage (sometimes verging on a kind of moral decay).
Here, the author makes two claims: 1) that Tolkien has a certain “vibe” and certain “values,” and 2) that any work which deviates substantially from these elements is fan fiction instead of a true adaptation. Within that claim is the implication that to be “fan fiction” is to necessarily be “lesser than” adaptation (as opposed to “different from”). The author might not have meant that in their statement, but it is clear that the failure of Rings of Power to adhere to this author’s expectations means it has fallen to an undesirable level (i.e., fan fiction).
Fan fiction writers have probably heard these arguments for generations. Certainly, fans and users of AO3 ran into this when the website was nominated for a Hugo Award (Best Related Work). While fandom has become more accepting of fan fiction, it has never embraced it fully, often opting for a “blinders” approach to avoid having to say anything good or bad.
This is, I argue, by design. You can probably place fandom into two broad camps: fan creators (people whose dominant fan mode is the creation of original work based on existing properties, including art, fiction, music, etc.) and fan engagers (people whose dominant fan mode is interacting in spaces that are formally or informally accepted by the IP holder, such as corporate-owned conventions, websites, podcasts, and so on). Both of these are messy, and neither is even remotely pure (and I will likely come back to them for significant refinement). Indeed, IP holders might approve of some forms of fan creation (see Star Wars before Disney) and some fan creators are also active participants in even the most overtly corporate spaces. However, both of these perspectives typically have quite different relationships to the IP holder, and it’s that concern which draws me to today’s subject.
All of this brings me to a framework I’ve been on-again-off-again working on to visually represent the various ways in which intellectual property, profit, and “fiction about other people’s IP” intersect and interact. Much of this comes from my interpretation of the fan fiction, which, as the graph below makes clear, is, for me, embedded in a relation to capital (i.e., it has meaning because of that relationship and cannot exist without it). Others might not agree with that view, of course, which might speak to differences in how we interpret IP and fan production.
In any case, here’s the graph:
Part of my interest here is attempting to delineate a non-evaluative framework for understanding how different forms of IP-based creation relate to one another. To me, the question of fan fiction’s validity as “good literature” is irrelevant because it encompasses such a wide variety of creative forms, practices, and qualities (both internal to its story and unique to its value as literature) that any assertion about its quality as a whole is automatically suspect. There are exceptional works of fan fiction just as there are exceptional works of any other fiction type. Fan fiction, in other words, is merely another type of fiction.
The same is true for tie-in fiction, which is easily recognizable as officially licensed and usually original work based on the IP of someone else.2 The same types of attacks one finds about fan fiction are also found for tie-in fiction, though unlike fan fiction, which is not formally recognize within its most obvious awards (a marker of a type of quality), tie-in fiction could be formally recognized but is almost always not.3 Yet, tie-in fiction can be quite exceptional even if it is not recognized as such outside of its fandom sphere. I think there are several Star Wars novels that are just good adventure science fiction novels. Like fan fiction, tie-in fiction is merely another type of fiction.
My frameworks dumps all of those quality questions and instead looks at how these two forms intersect. That intersection is a capitalist one: fan fiction and tie-in fiction are both mediums based on the work of others, but only one of these has been approved as a profit-making enterprise — explicitly and intentionally so. Fan fiction, thus, is always non-profit and always either approved (read: allowed implicitly or explicitly by the IP holder) or unapproved (read: the IP holder has explicitly rejected fan fiction on copyright grounds). This is, again, not an evaluation judgment — and, indeed, fan fiction writers have complicated perspectives on whether they have the right to create this work even if the IP holder has explicitly said “no.”4
Meanwhile, tie-in fiction is, by definition, for profit, and, thus, its approval is based on whether the IP holder has extended a contract to someone (or a group) to produce something original (or based on) the original work. That leaves two possibilities: either it’s legitimate tie-in fiction OR it’s a violation of copyright. I admit that there are very few overt examples of the latter (whereas there are considerably more examples of the unapproved forms of fan fiction — i.e., Anne Rice!). One major example that comes to mind is the rights conflict between CBS/Paramount and Star Trek fan film creators (Axanar), which resulted in the reassertion the IP holder’s rules (albeit, new ones) for fan production and requiring changes be made to the fan production to meet those rules. However, Axanar is a complicated case because its intention was to remain a fan film (or filmed fan fiction) even as it sought funding to cover expenses. So was it still truly a fan film when it raised money for production costs? One might argue “yes”;5 others, however, would see it as verging into the IP holder’s territory — which is, in essence, CBS/Paramount’s argument.
Still, variations of the Axanar case are, as far as I am aware, fairly rare to see — perhaps because such issues are usually resolved before material is actually produced (by lawsuit or some other means). In fact, I suspect there are more examples (or at least more high profile ones) of creators deliberately trying to avoid copyright to work with recently-made-public properties (e.g. Sherlock Holmes or Winnie the Pooh), especially given that some versions of those stories found in film may still be protected. Regardless, the point of the right side of the graph is to represent that profit-based relationship on its “for profit” end.
Having described this framework, I should mention one fiction form which doesn’t fit onto the graph but is directly related to the type of production being done on the left and right sides: work based on public domain works. For this, the “non-profit” and “for profit” titles hold — one can either write fan fiction based on those works (no profit intended) or release a new interpretation of those works with the intent to publish (profit intended) — but the IP concern is largely irrelevant because public domain works aren’t governed by copyright. To solve this, I think you either have to come up with a different X/Y framework OR dump the “IP” axis entirely and create a simple two-pointed line: fan fiction about public domain properties on the left and published fiction about public domain properties on the right. This, again, comes with no judgement: I’m merely relating how the media forms connect to one another (and what differentiates them in the publishing “market”).
For now, I think this gets across my thoughts on how best to understand the ways that fan fiction, tie-in fiction, copyright, and profit intersect. It also, I think, gives a clear indication for why profit is a significant concern for my understanding of fan fiction. What I do with this next is up in the air. There might not be anywhere else to go. We shall see…
This is part of a post I saw on an Facebook friend’s feed. I have removed their name because I don’t trust the Internet to take this criticism in the vein in which it is presented ↩
Tie-in work is also a form of transmedia, which is a topic for another day. ↩
The exceptions are a handful of awards such as the Scribe Awards or the occasional award category. ↩
Note that the Organization for Transformative Works exists largely to legitimate fan fiction as a form of creative adaptation and even has an academic journal dedicated to the study of such work (and the communities who make or read it). I’ll probably come back to the idea that academia is one of the pillars of legitimacy for a literary form later. ↩
The recuperation of costs was one of the issues under review during the WSFS meeting at Chicon. The argument on offer, however, would have also gone after podcasts raising funds to cover web hosting, and it’s this overreach that garnered the greatest resistance during that meeting. ↩
Shaun Duke is an aspiring writer, a reviewer, and an academic. He is currently an Assistant Professor of Digital Rhetoric and Writing at Bemidji State University. He received his PhD in English from the University of Florida and studies science fiction, postcolonialism, digital fan cultures, and digital rhetoric.
Why would someone make a list of important and interesting works of dystopian fiction? Or a suggested reading list of works that are relevant to those dystopian works? There is absolutely no reason other than raw interest. There’s nothing going on to compel this. There is nothing in particular one making such a list would hope you’d learn. The lists below are not an exhaustive list. There are bound to be texts I have forgotten or texts you think folks should read that are not listed. Feel free to make your own list and tell me about it OR leave a comment. I’ll add things I’ve missed! Anywhoodles. Here goes:
And so it came to pass that I finished up my annual Best of EDM [Insert Year Here] lists. I used to do these on Spotify before switching to Tidal, and I continued doing them on Tidal because I listen to an absurd amount of EDM and like keeping track of the tunes I love the most. Below, you will find a Tidal playlist that should be public. You can listen to the first 50 tracks right here, but the full playlist is available on Tidal proper (which has a free version just like Spotify does). For whatever reason, the embedded playlist breaks the page, and so I’ve opted to link to it here and at the bottom of this post. Embeds are weird. Or you can pull songs into your preferred listening app. It’s up to you. Some caveats before we begin:
We’re nine days into 2025, and it’s already full of exhausting levels of controversy before we’ve even had a turnover in power in my home country of the United States. We’ve seen resignations of world leaders, wars continuing and getting worse and worse (you know where), the owner of Twitter continuing his tirade of lunacy and demonstrating why the billionaire class is not to be revered, California ablaze with a horrendous and large wildfire, right wing thinktanks developing plans to out and attack Wikipedia editors as any fascist-friendly organization would do, Meta rolling out and rolling back GenAI profiles on its platforms, and, just yesterday, the same Meta announcing sweeping changes to its moderation policies that, in a charitable reading, encourage hate-based harassment and abuse of vulnerable populations, promotion and support for disinformation, and other problems, all of which are so profound that people are talking about a mass exodus from the platform to…somewhere. It’s that last thing that brings me back to the blog today. Since the takeover at Twitter, social networks have been in a state of chaos. Platforms have risen and fallen — or only risen so much — and nothing I would call stability has formed. Years ago, I (and many others far more popular than me) remarked that we’ve ceded the territory of self-owned or small-scale third party spaces for massive third party platforms where we have minimal to no control or say and which can be stripped away in a tech-scale heartbeat. By putting all our ducks into a bin of unstable chaos, we’re also expending our time and energy on something that won’t last, requiring us to expend more time and energy finding alternatives, rebuilding communities, and then repeating the process again. In the present environment, that’s impossible to ignore.1 This is all rather reductive, but this post is not the place to talk about all the ways that social networks have impacted control over our own spaces and narratives. Another time, perhaps. I similarly don’t have space to talk about the fact that some of the platforms we currently have, however functional they may be, have placed many of us in a moral quagmire, as in the case of Meta’s recent moderation changes. Another time… ↩
Fan Fiction vs. Tie-In Fiction: A Framework
Reading Time
Every once in a while, fandom is beset upon by a series of somewhat aggressive arguments about the function of accuracy in film/tv adaptations. The best of these follow my own path, which involves assessing the work on its own terms before going back to look at how it functions as an adaptation. The worst of these, however, fall into a familiar trap of damnation by comparison — typically by comparing an adaptation to fan fiction.
Essentially, the argument goes, substantial deviations from the source material make a work more fan fiction than adaptation; by doing so, these works become worse off. Fan fiction, in other words, is, by implication, a lesser form of art.
None of this, of course, is particularly surprising. While many fan fiction writers and the community which surrounds them find great value in fan fiction and its various related works (fan art, etc.), there has always been a side of the broader fan community which views such works as a lesser fan pursuit, artistically weak, or, in the most brutal rejection, contemptable garbage (sometimes verging on a kind of moral decay).
Take this as a prime example1:
Here, the author makes two claims: 1) that Tolkien has a certain “vibe” and certain “values,” and 2) that any work which deviates substantially from these elements is fan fiction instead of a true adaptation. Within that claim is the implication that to be “fan fiction” is to necessarily be “lesser than” adaptation (as opposed to “different from”). The author might not have meant that in their statement, but it is clear that the failure of Rings of Power to adhere to this author’s expectations means it has fallen to an undesirable level (i.e., fan fiction).
Fan fiction writers have probably heard these arguments for generations. Certainly, fans and users of AO3 ran into this when the website was nominated for a Hugo Award (Best Related Work). While fandom has become more accepting of fan fiction, it has never embraced it fully, often opting for a “blinders” approach to avoid having to say anything good or bad.
This is, I argue, by design. You can probably place fandom into two broad camps: fan creators (people whose dominant fan mode is the creation of original work based on existing properties, including art, fiction, music, etc.) and fan engagers (people whose dominant fan mode is interacting in spaces that are formally or informally accepted by the IP holder, such as corporate-owned conventions, websites, podcasts, and so on). Both of these are messy, and neither is even remotely pure (and I will likely come back to them for significant refinement). Indeed, IP holders might approve of some forms of fan creation (see Star Wars before Disney) and some fan creators are also active participants in even the most overtly corporate spaces. However, both of these perspectives typically have quite different relationships to the IP holder, and it’s that concern which draws me to today’s subject.
All of this brings me to a framework I’ve been on-again-off-again working on to visually represent the various ways in which intellectual property, profit, and “fiction about other people’s IP” intersect and interact. Much of this comes from my interpretation of the fan fiction, which, as the graph below makes clear, is, for me, embedded in a relation to capital (i.e., it has meaning because of that relationship and cannot exist without it). Others might not agree with that view, of course, which might speak to differences in how we interpret IP and fan production.
In any case, here’s the graph:
Part of my interest here is attempting to delineate a non-evaluative framework for understanding how different forms of IP-based creation relate to one another. To me, the question of fan fiction’s validity as “good literature” is irrelevant because it encompasses such a wide variety of creative forms, practices, and qualities (both internal to its story and unique to its value as literature) that any assertion about its quality as a whole is automatically suspect. There are exceptional works of fan fiction just as there are exceptional works of any other fiction type. Fan fiction, in other words, is merely another type of fiction.
The same is true for tie-in fiction, which is easily recognizable as officially licensed and usually original work based on the IP of someone else.2 The same types of attacks one finds about fan fiction are also found for tie-in fiction, though unlike fan fiction, which is not formally recognize within its most obvious awards (a marker of a type of quality), tie-in fiction could be formally recognized but is almost always not.3 Yet, tie-in fiction can be quite exceptional even if it is not recognized as such outside of its fandom sphere. I think there are several Star Wars novels that are just good adventure science fiction novels. Like fan fiction, tie-in fiction is merely another type of fiction.
My frameworks dumps all of those quality questions and instead looks at how these two forms intersect. That intersection is a capitalist one: fan fiction and tie-in fiction are both mediums based on the work of others, but only one of these has been approved as a profit-making enterprise — explicitly and intentionally so. Fan fiction, thus, is always non-profit and always either approved (read: allowed implicitly or explicitly by the IP holder) or unapproved (read: the IP holder has explicitly rejected fan fiction on copyright grounds). This is, again, not an evaluation judgment — and, indeed, fan fiction writers have complicated perspectives on whether they have the right to create this work even if the IP holder has explicitly said “no.”4
Meanwhile, tie-in fiction is, by definition, for profit, and, thus, its approval is based on whether the IP holder has extended a contract to someone (or a group) to produce something original (or based on) the original work. That leaves two possibilities: either it’s legitimate tie-in fiction OR it’s a violation of copyright. I admit that there are very few overt examples of the latter (whereas there are considerably more examples of the unapproved forms of fan fiction — i.e., Anne Rice!). One major example that comes to mind is the rights conflict between CBS/Paramount and Star Trek fan film creators (Axanar), which resulted in the reassertion the IP holder’s rules (albeit, new ones) for fan production and requiring changes be made to the fan production to meet those rules. However, Axanar is a complicated case because its intention was to remain a fan film (or filmed fan fiction) even as it sought funding to cover expenses. So was it still truly a fan film when it raised money for production costs? One might argue “yes”;5 others, however, would see it as verging into the IP holder’s territory — which is, in essence, CBS/Paramount’s argument.
Still, variations of the Axanar case are, as far as I am aware, fairly rare to see — perhaps because such issues are usually resolved before material is actually produced (by lawsuit or some other means). In fact, I suspect there are more examples (or at least more high profile ones) of creators deliberately trying to avoid copyright to work with recently-made-public properties (e.g. Sherlock Holmes or Winnie the Pooh), especially given that some versions of those stories found in film may still be protected. Regardless, the point of the right side of the graph is to represent that profit-based relationship on its “for profit” end.
Having described this framework, I should mention one fiction form which doesn’t fit onto the graph but is directly related to the type of production being done on the left and right sides: work based on public domain works. For this, the “non-profit” and “for profit” titles hold — one can either write fan fiction based on those works (no profit intended) or release a new interpretation of those works with the intent to publish (profit intended) — but the IP concern is largely irrelevant because public domain works aren’t governed by copyright. To solve this, I think you either have to come up with a different X/Y framework OR dump the “IP” axis entirely and create a simple two-pointed line: fan fiction about public domain properties on the left and published fiction about public domain properties on the right. This, again, comes with no judgement: I’m merely relating how the media forms connect to one another (and what differentiates them in the publishing “market”).
For now, I think this gets across my thoughts on how best to understand the ways that fan fiction, tie-in fiction, copyright, and profit intersect. It also, I think, gives a clear indication for why profit is a significant concern for my understanding of fan fiction. What I do with this next is up in the air. There might not be anywhere else to go. We shall see…
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A Reading List of Dystopian Fiction and Relevant Texts (Apropos of Nothing in Particular)
Why would someone make a list of important and interesting works of dystopian fiction? Or a suggested reading list of works that are relevant to those dystopian works? There is absolutely no reason other than raw interest. There’s nothing going on to compel this. There is nothing in particular one making such a list would hope you’d learn. The lists below are not an exhaustive list. There are bound to be texts I have forgotten or texts you think folks should read that are not listed. Feel free to make your own list and tell me about it OR leave a comment. I’ll add things I’ve missed! Anywhoodles. Here goes:
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Duke’s Best EDM Tracks of 2024
And so it came to pass that I finished up my annual Best of EDM [Insert Year Here] lists. I used to do these on Spotify before switching to Tidal, and I continued doing them on Tidal because I listen to an absurd amount of EDM and like keeping track of the tunes I love the most. Below, you will find a Tidal playlist that should be public. You can listen to the first 50 tracks right here, but the full playlist is available on Tidal proper (which has a free version just like Spotify does). For whatever reason, the embedded playlist breaks the page, and so I’ve opted to link to it here and at the bottom of this post. Embeds are weird. Or you can pull songs into your preferred listening app. It’s up to you. Some caveats before we begin:
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2025: The Year of Something
We’re nine days into 2025, and it’s already full of exhausting levels of controversy before we’ve even had a turnover in power in my home country of the United States. We’ve seen resignations of world leaders, wars continuing and getting worse and worse (you know where), the owner of Twitter continuing his tirade of lunacy and demonstrating why the billionaire class is not to be revered, California ablaze with a horrendous and large wildfire, right wing thinktanks developing plans to out and attack Wikipedia editors as any fascist-friendly organization would do, Meta rolling out and rolling back GenAI profiles on its platforms, and, just yesterday, the same Meta announcing sweeping changes to its moderation policies that, in a charitable reading, encourage hate-based harassment and abuse of vulnerable populations, promotion and support for disinformation, and other problems, all of which are so profound that people are talking about a mass exodus from the platform to…somewhere. It’s that last thing that brings me back to the blog today. Since the takeover at Twitter, social networks have been in a state of chaos. Platforms have risen and fallen — or only risen so much — and nothing I would call stability has formed. Years ago, I (and many others far more popular than me) remarked that we’ve ceded the territory of self-owned or small-scale third party spaces for massive third party platforms where we have minimal to no control or say and which can be stripped away in a tech-scale heartbeat. By putting all our ducks into a bin of unstable chaos, we’re also expending our time and energy on something that won’t last, requiring us to expend more time and energy finding alternatives, rebuilding communities, and then repeating the process again. In the present environment, that’s impossible to ignore.1 This is all rather reductive, but this post is not the place to talk about all the ways that social networks have impacted control over our own spaces and narratives. Another time, perhaps. I similarly don’t have space to talk about the fact that some of the platforms we currently have, however functional they may be, have placed many of us in a moral quagmire, as in the case of Meta’s recent moderation changes. Another time… ↩
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