I had a good job. I liked my boss. I made enough money for everything I needed. I chose to major in business over creative writing. I earned the degree and the secure job with benefits. I did everything right. I should be grateful. Iwasgrateful.
I guess I just thought I would have a literary agent and several books already published by now … or even a finished novel to pitch.
But that was me: romanticizing life with my head permanently in the clouds.
WritingTerraFormativefan fiction brought so much joy and distraction, but it was only ever that, a distraction. It would never be taken seriously.Iwould never be taken seriously as a writer until I got that book deal. I could hear my mom’s voice mentioning “those silly little stories.” And yet even now I wanted to get lost in the TF world I knew so well. Maybe I’d just write a quick one-shot. That would make my fifty thousand plus subscribers happy. And of course, it would make me happy. A little stress relief.
At home, I dropped my keys on the side table by the door, immediately changed out of my business clothes and into sweatpants, and shot my bra off like a slingshot.
I had stopped at my post office box and found it filled with several cards and gifts from readers. I scanned through them now, causing my eyes to well with tears. Readers were really just the best people. I poured myself a glass of milk to have with my dinner—a to-go piece of birthday cake from the office—and opened my laptop.
My social media was filled with birthday wishes from online readers and friends. I smiled as I sifted through the messages and GIFs, many of them featuring a shirtless Charles Downing holding a birthday cake. I should feel bad about ogling the guy. He was, after all, just a person, but the man was beautiful, and my crush was not new. It had all started when I was eleven and I watched my first episode ofTerraFormative, or TF, as I would soon begin to refer to it. I understood why all the girls went crazy over Harrison. He was obviously the cute one with the damaged soul eyes that appealed to so many. But I always preferred Freddy Finks, with his sweet dimples and silly jokes. As time went on, my crush morphed from not just infatuation with the fictional character but to the real-life Charles Downing. Embarrassing. We were basically the same age but had lived completely different lives. I wondered what he was doing now. I wondered if he ever felt lonely.
I should write a fan fiction based on those GIFs of him showing up at the door holding a cake for my birthday. I would be sitting here writing; he would walk in with my piece of cake …
I blushed. “Jesus, Kate,” I muttered and stuffed a bite of rich frosting into my mouth.
Tonight, I would let myself indulge in my fan fiction writing. Then I would focus in earnest on my novel.
A message from a new user popped into my inbox just as I was about to close out and get to writing. User78767645 looked like the default log ins they gave to new members. Usually those messages were spam, but the glimpse of the first line, “I swear I’m not a nutter,” had me clicking on it out of curiosity.
I read the thank you note, feeling a grin grow on my face. Then I read it again. The words were vulnerable yet light and funny enough to make me snort out loud. Maybe because of the birthday blues or maybe because I was high on sugar and feeling adventurous, I responded to the message. And not the polite canned answer I sent to the many people who reached out to me. This user78767645required a personal touch. And there was a sense of humor and surprising vulnerability that stuck out to me.
But there I went making a mountain out of a molehill again and romanticizing an innocent message. I would send a simple thank you, nothing more.
3
DRAFT UNSENT
From: user78767645
To: FreddyStan4Life
Hi. My name is Charlie Downing. That likely seems hard to believe, but it’s true. I came across your stories by accident a few weeks ago. (I swear I’m not some nutter who searches out stories about himself for an ego boost.) I’ve since read every story you’ve written. I imagine people must reach out to you all the time to compliment you. Your stories are so rich and intricate and captivating. I didn’t even mean to read, no offense. I saw an article that linked to an article about fanfics … Anyway. It doesn’t matter how I got there.
I just wanted to write to say thank you. I can’t tell you how much your words have meant to me. I’ve been struggling all these years since we finished filming. I’m sure you’ve seen much of it in the tabloids. Nothing has made me feel as grounded as being back in theTerraFormativeworld. You’ve managed to take a beloved story and improve upon it. I am in absolute awe of you. Every time I struggle and want to find a way to numb myself, I let myself read your stories and manage to get through another day sober.
It’s ridiculous that I’m reaching out to you like this. I never even created a FanFavz account to read your stories. I had to create one just to message you. Thank you for taking Freddy’s character and making him something more than a chubby sidekick who exists only to break the tension. I’ve always thought he had untapped potential.
Undoubtedly you already think I’m some creep on the internet and probably won’t even read this letter. I just need you to know how important your words have been to me. But you’d never believe I’m actually Charlie Downing. Not to mention it’s bloody embarrassing that I’m reading fan fiction about my own character.
Fuck. I can’t send this.
* * *
From:user78767645
To: FreddyStan4Life
I swear I’m not a nutter. Of course, that’s likely exactly what a nutterwouldsay … I guess you’ll have to take my word on it.
I’ve never written fan mail before. Just know this feels deeply uncomfortable. (But thankfully, as a British man, that’s my typical state of being.)
Alas, I am compelled to say thank you. In the last couple weeks, I have read everything you’ve written. You’ve helped me during a tough transition in my life. Every time I feel particularly sorry for myself, I open one of your stories. I tell myself just one chapter, then proceed to get lost. The hours slip by, and I have made it through another night.
So, thanks.
Cheers,
