Are You a Fan? Or Fantitled?

What’s fantitlement, and should writers be worried about it?

These days any of us can interact with famous writers on Twitter and other platforms. It’s awesome – but opens a can of worms or two with fans. What used to be “I wish this book ended differently” has morphed into something more . . . intense for certain readers. That’s where the new word “fantitlement” comes in. How is this a ‘genre-hop’ topic? Maybe it’s more of a ‘role’ hop. Let me explain.

I’ll start with what fantitlement isn’t: feeling cranky about how things turn out in a creative work. Maybe so much so that you chuck an offending novel into your donate pile or delete it from your devices. Or you bail on a TV show. I’m one of the huge number of people who stopped watching The Walking Dead thanks to a certain event in Season Seven, Episode One. I know The Event (no spoilers here) is in the original comic – I’ve read all 4,000+ pages. It just did not need to go down the way it did. Plenty of plot elements changed from the comic to the series. Give the guy who’s been there since Season One a better death (well, that’s a bit of a spoiler). My response to being cranky? I stopped watching.

Ditto House. I hit overload with House’s assholery at some point in Season Four. Sure, the show is incredibly well written, and Hugh Laurie is uniquely talented. And sure, House is in constant pain, physical and psychological. But unless the good doctor gets flung off the hospital roof in the finale, I’m not coming back.

Still, ditching is not fantitlement. It’s also not fantitlement if you trash something online. No author is entitled to your approval. You’re still in your lane if you write a bad review or two or three (although the writer may never read it – see my June post).

Fantitlement goes beyond the cranky fans who turn elsewhere for entertainment or the ones slamming writers on Goodreads. Some fans feel entitled to have things go their way – hence the neologism. They don’t just write a review and leave it at that. They want more.

Are you suffering from a case of fantitlement? Check for these two symptoms:

Symptom #1: An irresistible urge to reach out and harass authors: A standard fan writes to an author with praise, comments, or maybe suggestions. The fantitled, burning with outrage, scold and make demands. They want action.

Juliet Blackwell’s Witchcraft Mystery series is a very fun read. Her protagonist Lily’s magical familiar is a Vietnamese pot-bellied pig named Oscar. I love Oscar. I look forward to Oscar’s antics. I feel guilty if I eat bacon too soon after reading about Oscar (but must confess, the feeling fades). Some readers, however, detest him. They want Oscar gone. Blackwell must, they write to her and insist, go Lord of the Flies. Kill the pig.

Maybe I’m just too passive . . . (ha! no I’m not!), but I can’t imagine writing to an author and demanding anything, let alone the murder of their creations. Who does that? We’re just not entitled to an author’s attention and edits-on-demand. Authors get to kill their darlings. Readers do not.

So, tying back to the genre-hopping theme of this blog: it’s best if readers don’t try to hop into the driver’s seat on other people’s work. That is, unless explicitly invited to do so – which could actually be fun. Imagine an internet version of the writing class exercise, “write one sentence, fold down the paper, and pass it on.” Sentence by sentence, a wild story emerges. Patchwork communal fiction.

Symptom #2: A belief that characters are real – and you must champion them: Sometimes fans don’t clamor for death – they protest it. It’s painful to see a beloved character go. Even worse when they’re beaten to death with a barbwired bat (shucks – that’s a TWD spoiler for sure). But in a zombie apocalypse, or a mystery novel series, or a sci-fi film, such things happen. Otherwise the worlds are too rosy to believe. People got so worked up about Glenn’s death – all right, there, now it’s all out – because the series is so incredibly well written that we feel like he’s real. Like he has his own existence, independent of the author’s will. He was just so nice! If he can die brutally, what about Carol? Or god forbid, Daryl?! Is no one safe? (apologies to Aaron fans – I liked him but didn’t love him).

Heartsore, standard fans turn away when things get too ugly. Not so the fantitled. Cassandra Clare, like many massively popular writers, has tangled with this problem. Check this out, from the New York Times (https://www.nytimes.com/2016/04/24/fashion/cassandra-clare-shadowhunters-lady-midnight.html?referer ) :

Ms. Clare described a Twitter comment about one of her characters that read, “If it were up to you, Alec would be dead.”

“I pointed out that it is up to me,” Ms. Clare said. “And they seemed shocked to have to confront that fact, as if they couldn’t remember that actually I made up Alec. His reality had trumped mine.”

Bookstores where Clare has read have fielded death threats, and at a Clockwork Princess signing a fantitled individual slammed a book on Clare’s hand for killing off one of the characters. Sure, it’s a compliment if you can make a reader feel so passionately. But by that logic, stalking is a compliment, too.

So how does one catch fantitlement? Two trends stand out to me. One is participation culture. Dancing with the Stars invites you help decide the fate of the contestants. So do American Idol and plenty of other reality shows. Your input matters. Shouldn’t you get the same voice in the novels you read or the other shows you watch?

Trend number two is related: consumer culture. Publishing, film, and TV have always been businesses, but lately “the customer is always right” has hit new heights (or depths). Another cliché applies here, as well – “I’m paying your salary!” Readers and viewers contribute to the bank accounts of their favorite writers. Surely that entitles them to some perks.

As a writer, should you be worried about fantitlement? Maybe you’re famous enough to trigger it – I’m certainly not. Plus, I’m such a genre hopper that I can’t imagine doing a series, the context where the problem usually crops up. Loyal series readers are in for the long haul, so series authors do well to keep a respectful eye on their feedback. But you can’t please all the people all of the time. Ultimately, the writer’s vision comes first.

We’re all entitled to our opinions, and there are plenty of forums for voicing them. But as audience members we’re really not entitled to grab the wheel and steer. Thinking your perspective is just as important as the author’s – or more important – is pretty wacky, and likely to leave you frustrated.

Here’s a thought. If you really really hate what happens to a beloved character, don’t hassle the author – rewrite the story yourself. And if it sounds like a headache to figure out copyright law on posting/publishing your New & Improved [insert hated title here], keep it in your diary. Or pick authors long dead. Bram Stoker’s Dracula, for instance, is emphatically not a love story. Check the 1897 original. But if you like it better that way – go for it. Plenty of screenwriters and novelists have.

One of these days I may get around to storyboarding a new ending for Breaking Bad. You chose to sell your interest in the company, Walter. That’s on you. You do not deserve revenge. Oh hell’s bells – another spoiler.

Check back for upcoming posts on working with a cover artist and becoming someone else's content editor -- plus guest posts by literary agent Lisa Adams, novelist Michael David Lukas, and more!