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You love her. Or (more likely at this point) you hate her. Who is she? Why was she created? Who owns her? and more importantly, who's responsible for her? Why does she do the things she does?
All excellent questions. Whether you're here to beat her to a pulp or to pat her on the back, read on for the history, the story, the full-on tomato that is our Mary Sue. |
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1. Philosophically Speaking . . .
If one looks into the dark history of the Godawful message board, one finds that Mary Sue first came about to keep the board going (or the bored going, as the case may be). More specifically (and for people who want someone to blame, here's the answer), I was dead worried that a highly entertaining board I'd had the pleasure of inaugurating with a huge and wondrous flamewar would go kaput. So I started a game. Posters to the board could participate in a round-robin writing collaboration to make the worst piece of fic possible. I thought writing badfic was going to be fun, maybe educational, definitely an excuse for people to come and post oftenso I started it all off with a title, a forward, and a name. |
_The Night the Ship Exploded and
Everyone "Did It"_, by Mary Sue Whipple
Disclaimer: Hi!! I don't own these characters, but I thought a regular disclaim would be boring, so I decided to write it all to the tune of Voyager's themesong. Thanks to Cutegrrl for the idea!! ++wave!++ |
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It was a quiet, normal shift, until suddenly all the lights went out. The death of the lights all around the ship caused a flurry of bumps in the night. But in the depths of space, night is an eternal constant that pervades the human soul and echoes somehow in the dark recesses of the psyche, calling to the heart the terrors of childhood, the terrors of the cold and unforgiving death that only space can offer, and it is that very death, that one unobtainable experience that calls to the brave men and women who set out on a course that will lead no where but a starship and vacuum, that calls now to the officers of Voyager, including the one whose all-abiding fear of the dark has left her in dire straits, and has made her desperately thwap her communicator and ask for anyone, anyone, in the hopes that the ship has not been destroyed while she was napping. |
Mary Sue Whipple. I took the 'Mary Sue' bit from the popular literary term, first dubbed in fanfic circles in the sixties. It was such a popular term, and useful to boot, that the name spread, and today even the professional writing/publishing business uses it to describe a particular phenomenon in fiction. (For a more thorough discussion of this, try Dr. Merlin's Guide to Fan Fiction.) The Whipple bit . . . well, I thought it sounded silly, and it fit well. It was only later that I discovered that there was an X-Files fanwriter of the same last name and middle initial; the use of her last name is not a comment on her writing, but rather a sad accident. (No one's ever written about this, but it's been on my conscience for eons. If I can't write it here, where can I? This is not a problem easily solved by the Dear Abby column.) As much fun as I thought writing badfic was, I didn't expect the game to take off like it did. Heck, I didn't expect it to last as long as it has, and I certainly didn't expect MSW to branch off into every fandom she could wrap her tentacles around. In some ways, I'm glad she hasit allowed many different people to experience the fruits of her labors. But seeing as how it looks like she's here to stay for a while, it's time I stopped using paper plates and making her sleep on the couchit's time I thought about what she is, or at least, what she is to me. Take the following with a grain of salt and in strict IMO-mode. As the creator and one of the original authors of Mary Sue, it's my right to lay down what I consider to be the truth of the matterother authors also have the right to dive in and tell me I'm wrong, wrong, and more than wrong. But believe it or not, I care about MSW. I care about how people perceive her, and I care about her future well-being. This essay is really the second draft of one I wrote long ago, expanded and twiddled for a general audience. Remember, before you flame: This took some thought, but it's my thought, and my ideas about the universe don't need to coincide with anybody else's. That's what my psychiatrist told me, anyway, before he put me on Thorazine. |
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2. "The Fox! That's really the big thing about MSW: She doesn't know that she's a bad writer. No one's ever bothered to give her real critique-style feedback (few fanwriters ever receive such, drat itthe quality of fanfic today would be better for a few tough critiques), so she takes the less-than-kind feedback as flames, and glories in the rest of it. That's the character of Mary Sue. The reality is, Mary Sue ain't real. She's a collective entity, as I mentioned aboveshe, or rather, her fanfiction, is composed by people who are, in other circumstances, good writers, or by people who are simply tired of the lousy fanfic currently out there, and need to vent some spleen. Her fiction is parody. Not just bad, horrible stuff, but real parodyall fanfiction gets mocked and exulted in. (Much of Mary Sue's stuff is parody of original professional-level fiction as well, come to think of itno prose escapes our notice.) No, it won't be understood by allbut that's the way it goes. Even explaining her to the nth degree, with a complete FAQ and quotes from A Modest Proposal, will not clear up the confusion she and her fanfic creates. In the endkudos to those who get it, pity for those who don't. That's the way the cookies crumble. (Already I can hear the gasps and shrieks of outrage. Maybe you're someone who doesn't think Mary Sue is funny. Maybe you hate her fic with a passion unknown to modern man. That's okay. You don't have to like her. Hate her all you want. Flame her until she's a pleasant crispy flavor. I will even be giving you reasons to set her ablaze, in the very next essay section. For now . . . watch your heart rate, and try to take deep, measured breaths. A bit of chocolate would also not be amiss.) There's a fine line between Mary Sue the character, and Mary Sue the realityand I think it's one that shouldn't be crossed. Just because Whipple writes loads of absolute garbage does not mean that the writers of Whipple should feel obliged to produce the same. That this line was crossed multiple times not-so-long-ago does not mean this is all Mary Sue is, was, and should be. Yes, her stuff's shit. But it should be good shit, man. |
She bit a fingernail. She worried about Chakotay, she really did. She'd left him out there - Alone. Doing what he always did, saving Voyager from anhiliation by some rather nasty aliens. She could almost imagine the frustration induced sweat that ran down his manly, muscular body. If it wasn't for that depression thingy she was going through (Note from the Author - sorry, missed that ep !) she'd be otu there with him. Ordering phaser fire as the alien ship's exploded on the view screen. As though those golden particles were fire works to their uncontrollable yet un- fulfilled passion. Janeway sighed. Chakotay made her h---- but she really couldn't tell him. The loneliness at the top and all that... She shuffeled to her replicator. "Coffee, luke warm." Luke warm, she thought. That was almost ironic. He hadn't told her in soo long, how ye yearned for her, every waking moment consumed by his passion for her. His passionj must have quelled, he must now have only *luke warm* feelings for hre. Damn, her mind shouted almost loud enough to hurt. If only I was as beautiful and as talented as that young Ensign, Mary Sue. Every man with eyes would want a piece of that. She'd seen Tom Paris smile at her, his eyes full of desire. Janeway aloud herself a half-smile, she'd miss their little meetings. But Tom was easy, a late-night distraction. A gigolo for all the senior staff on VOYAGER. She really wanted Chakotay... |
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She fired the fazer rifle at Chokotay. His chocolate brown eyes messed up by his brain exploding (Author's note -I've been told it can do that.) His body landed with a flood on the floor. A large gaping whole where his tattoo once was. His hands shook and then eventually stopped. It seemed Chakotay Junior wouldn't have a Daddy. Ah, the pain, that red stain was going to be hell to get out. She turned the rifle on Tom but then dropped it in astonishment. "Oh Wow!! You're Tom Paris, sex-god of the Universe. How can any slightly dodgy alien woman resist?" The shape-shifter alien ran towards him knocking him to the floor and pulling his clothes off with reckless abandon. "Oh cool." Was all Tom could manage. Meanwhile on Sickbay... "Captain - I don't understand it. 7 of 9 has disappeared from the ship, in any normal situation - she'd be the one to save us but she's just gone and I've got a darned good Gilbert and Sullivan number as well." The EMH stomped around the room. "Damn," Janeway said. "I can't drone on about the meaning of individuality and how that basically means she has to be my slave and do everything I command. Oh well, maybe I can reform Mary Sue Whipple over a cup of late night Java." Just then - Mary Sue stormed in. As always her long hair rested neatly on her shoulders, her sparkling blue eyes shone and she held her - 'I've got an IQ of 369 and I'm funny too,' certificate aloft. "Who needs Barbie borg! We've got whipple power!!" |
3. Frequently Asked Question: What's to
Hate?
What is all this?:
I've heard you don't like FAQs:
If you're going to get all snippy about why or why not to hate her . . . :
So what's this one thing you don't like?:
So . . . why didn't you do something about this before it all happened?:
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4. "Consult, v.t. To seek
another's approval of a course already decided on."
But I never wanted to own her. I still have trouble expressing what I mean by this. I always wanted Whipple to be a pen name anyone could use, without having to consult me or pass by my weird standards or even, for that matter, ever telling me. Say you write under the name Jimison. One day you snap, and write something godawful. If you wanted to, you could sign it as Mary Sue Whipple. Why? Because Mary Sue is a lousy fanwriter, and everyone knows it. Maybe (read: probably) this was big-headed of me. If you write badfic, you should be allowed to sign it with your own name. But I wanted to give people the option to sign with MSW, if they wanted. Perhaps I (or those representing her on the net) never made this clear; my fault. Here's another reason for writing this essay: I'm calling Mary Sue Whipple an open pen name. Take, write, enjoy. There was a problem, however, with my not declaring Mary Sue in the name of Spain. If I didn't openly express my ownership of her . . . that meant someone else could. (Today's creative quote: "If I don't control this, other people will control it for me." -friends of singer Pat Benatar, on her thoughts about her onstage sex kitten persona. Gosh. The things one sees when insomnia beckons. Never again, VH1, never again.) |
"Uncle Tuvok, it's the red alert!! I think that shape-changing aliens have taken over the shipp!! WHo knows, maybe the ship will excplode! We've got to help save everyone!" cried the wheelchair-bound child, his eyes like a blue sky reflected in a puddle with chocolate brown mud at the bottom. His hair was a cross between B'Elanna's and Tom's soft locks, only scraggily in the way of all small, nine-year old boys. Tuvok looked deep inside himself and realized that he perhaps loved these children. His Vulcan side hastily put up a cold front. "Excellent, Owen. Perhaps you, your sister, and I can try to help save the ship. Come along." Oh god! he thought, I can't control my emotions! Tuvok felt his Vulcanness crumbling softly with each moment he spent with the children. |
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"Ha ha ha. Bomb tickle katie. Now mom rule ship. Elmo help. elmo junior help mommy rule ship." Tuvok tried to apprehend the little red guy but unfortunatrly he was strangled by Elmo. Poor Tuvok. All that was left to run the ship was Harry Kim, Chapman and Carey. Paris and Torres had disappeared after all. Neelix should be shot unless you are making with him in a hot tub. Mary Sue stared about herself in horror. The body count was beyond belief. Janeway, Paris (both of them), Torres, Chakotay (both of them too), and that Carrey guy from enginnering because it was stupid of him to die on that planet in the season ender from a couple years ago. "Gosh," she whispered, the bloddy bodies parading behind her eyes. She felt herself fainting, fainting, hitting the floor gracefully and collapsing inertly. Her eyes were still wide open as she saw the dead Commander's chest suddenly heave upward, as if he was breathing again. His chest exploded. |
Consider, for a moment, Linux. An open-source program (that means that the programming code can be read and used by anybody; imagine if you could see how your favorite video game was put together. Like that). Mary Sue Whipple is like Linuxyou know how she's put together, and anybody can use her. However, Linux is owned by the guy who invented it. He doesn't have to get cash for it; he doesn't have to directly control what people do with his program. But. If someone has a Linux program, they can't say it's theirs. When I said I didn't want to own Mary Sue, I didn't consider the idea that someone might take her and mess about with her in ways I didn't like; since I didn't claim her, I couldn't say, "Yo, quit that." This is a problem, and one that makes me feel hypocritical along with everything else. I can almost hear myself saying, "Hey, when she's being well taken care of, she's everybody's, but the second she's mistreated, she's mine." Ugh. Not a line I like to use. But a true one anyway. What, you may ask, do I consider to be misuse of Mary Sue? --Claiming ownership that doesn't exist. Ladies and gents, despite all I've said to the contrary in the past, I'm making it clear now: She's mine. My character, my joy, my bountiful feast of delicious apricot tarts. Only out of the kindness of my own heart (and because of the honest belief that no one would mistreat her name), I'm giving her pen name away for free. That does not mean I don't own her. Even when I was being squishy on the subject, other people sure as hell couldn't own her. I'm referring directly here to the FanFiction.Net Whipple author who declared herself Mary Sue. The quick answer: No, she wasn't. Nor is she right now. Nor do I plan to let her be any time soon. There is no one single real Mary Sue Whipple, thank God, and I doubt there will ever be one. --Misconceptions about her conception. Telling people how she was born is extremely cool (especially 'cause, y'know, my name has to be plastered all over the story). Telling people lies and damned lies is a bad thing, especially when you know the truth of the matter. Here, I refer to the Writer's University website, wherein a false history of MSW simple beginnings is given (and her creation story is not one I'm shy aboutI give it any time anyone asks about Mary Sue in my hearing). Though E. is a wonderfully humorous and intelligent poster on the Godawful board, E. did not start Whipple with me (though at this point, I wouldn't mind the company . . .). Neither did anyone else. There were a number of people who enthusiastically joined in the fun, but that ain't the same. So stick to the truth, and lo, there shall be much joy. |
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--Badly-written badfic. I've said it before (in this very essay, as a matter of fact) and I'll say it again: It's not necessary, and it's no fun to read. The fast-and-easy summary: It's not enough to just be bad. Like anything else, Whipple actually requires effort and, Roddenberry save us, talent. If you haven't the talent . . . well, sucks to be you. Them's the breaks. If you don't actually work at it, though . . . then you're producing the same garbage that Whipple is meant to ridicule. Which is no fun. --Personality outside of story. This may seem like an odd one. Writing Mary Sue is tough enoughno one should attempt to be her. This is a sin I've committed twice: first, by writing the Mary Sue Whipple webpage, and second, by responding to people in the guestbook there. The webpage I consider to be another form of parody, so I don't feel very bad about that. However, responding in the guestbook isn't really necessary, so I've stopped. Mary Sue is to be understood by what she's writtenher pen name is not to be treated like another internet pseudonym. Someone, using her name, should not go about giving interviews, or posting reviews, or chatting up strangers she meets on the street. It's too easy to forget that you're representing not just yourself, but an entire collaboration of authors. It's too easy to forget that you are not Mary Sue. --Archives other than the official. There is one Mary Sue archive. I've got it. Why? Because her stories shouldn't be lost. Otherwise, there's no other reason. At one point someone created another archive within FanFiction.Net, without asking me. I was okay with it, because any site needs a mirror. It bothered me that people were posting directly to the FF.Net account, but I figured, hey, I'm a slow updater how could it hurt. After the account went kaput (without anyone asking me about that eitherthere's a trend here), Writer's University started another archive, again without informing me. Stories can be given directly to the WU archive, without coming to mine. There's even a rule imposed: all stories must be posted at Godawful first before they can be accepted. Huh? My Mary Sue never had rules (she had common sense). Why do I have problems with more than one archive? Because it comes down to that ownership thing again. Even when I wasn't claiming her . . . she's mine. I don't appreciate (and frankly, didn't expect) people sliding in and trying to take part-ownership by running another archive. I mean, damn; she was my idea . . . can't you come up with your own neat idea? One that doesn't entail me watching a character I created be despised by fandom for things she shouldn't have been doing in the first place? This probably makes no sense whatsoever. Oh well. Call this the one loony problem I have; humor me. |
"There's got to be something I can do!" she cried out in frustration. "Think think... I got it!" She hurried as fast as her undulating body could to the EPS conduit in front of the viewscreen. She pulled up one corner of the carpetng, and found the emergency hidden hyrdospanner. She used the instrument as quickly as possible to wrench off the panelling, trying hard not to use the intrusment for other, more pleasurable purposes. "No," she thought, and then whisperd. "THat'w just what the aliens want me to do." She pulled out the bomb, shaped like a small green pineapple. "Where do I put this now? Think think!" All of a sudden, she remembered the lessons Harry had given her on transportation. She took the bomb and set it on the Captain's chair, then shivered over to Harry's console. "PRess his, then this, then pop in the quardenits... poof!!" Teh bomb disapppeared. Mary Sue had sent it to the alien ship. A bright and loud BOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!! lit up the viewscreen as an invisible alien ship blew up. |
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A giant scream was heard crashing through the ship, as if metal was being ripped from it's seams and nuts flew hitting things. "I love you momma!" Elmo's voice was heard saying. On this night Mary Sue died and the ship exploded. ------- Time passed, and Elmo, and the EMH whom Elmo had transfered his program over, traveledly slowly through the black nether of space, rarely stopping to eat. There was no reason to. It would be five lonely years for Elmo and the EMH before they would find a worm hole that took them back to the alpha quarderent. When they got back, the pair were hailed as heros and told their tails to everyone. Poor guys. TEH END END END THIS IS THE END END END WE"RE PINKY AND THE BRSIN YES PINKY AND THE BRAIN ONE IS REALLY SMART THE OTHER IS SORTA CUTE BUT THIS IS THE END END END THISD IS THE END END END.......... Anyway, this is the end of my first story and I hope everyone liks it and I get a bunch of fanmail please! ThANK YOU!!! |
5. "No, too long, let me sum
up."
--Mary Sue's supposed to be funny. Since humor is one of the most difficult things to write, it's easy for us to mess this up. If you don't think she's funny . . . write a funny MSW story. Even if you said you hate her, we won't care. Good writing (even of badfic) will let us forget anything you may have said in the past. --Mary Sue's supposed to be bad. If you've complained in the past that her stuff is godawful garbage . . . well, to a point, it's supposed to be. There are some bits of her fiction I do not consider to be up to her quality of bad, but the majority of those got snuffed when the FF.Net account died. For good examples of her lousiness, try any of her big Star Trek stories (available on her website), or her two X-Files stories (available on Gossamer, and, shortly, on her website). --Mary Sue's supposed to be for everyone. If you want to borrow her name, take, do, have fun. You don't need to tell me, you don't need to tell Godawful, you don't need to send a copy to the archive. Mind you, it would be nice if you didwe all love Mary Sue a great deal, and would enjoy reading new material. But if you really don't feel like it . . . well, have fun anyway. However If, for any reason (although I'll probably explain in some long-winded fashion), I think you're hitting one of those no-no Mary Sue things (like archives, or claiming ownership, etcetra and so forth), then I get to say, "Yo, quit that." If people persist in doing something I don't wanna let 'em do, then I get to scream bloody murder. Well, that, and openly protest it in every venue I can get my grubby mitts on, and probably write another essay, and generally be a pain in the offender's ass. Gosh. So here's the bottom line: Try her again. Forget what someone using her name may have done in the past. Write your own Whipple stories. Enjoy her. And drop us a line if you have the chance. |
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This essay brought to you by the letters Q, Danny Kaye, Ambrose Bierce, Inigo Montoya, and 34. No characters were hurt during the making of this essay, though it was a near thing with that stunt rabbit. Written by: Alice Karvonen Allonway Date: July 15, 2001 (though God knows I should've written this a long time ago) The MSW fic quoted above is The Night the Ship Exploded and Everyone "Did It", her first story. The excerpts have no actual bearing on the essayI just thought they were funny. What to give your opinions? Try the guestbook, or go on to the Godawful Message Board. If you've a question, or wish to have something added or subtracted from this, the best way to accomplish your goal is by telling me. Can't do a lick of harm, and may actually help me improve this. Thanks for reading, people. |