NOTE: Pop Culture Boner has a new home and a new podcast. You can listen here, if that’s your jam.
I’d just like to kick this blog off by saying a big thank you to everyone who visited my blog and liked or commented on my post after it was featured on Freshly Pressed. It was very nice to receive so much attention. I would also like to say a big hello to my sudden influx of followers. Nice to meet you. I should probably take a moment to point out that normally this blog is a bit silly, so I hope that my follow-up posts aren’t too much of a disappointment. Now, on with the show, yes? Yes.
Following on from the rampaging (horrific) success of E.L James’ highly evolved piece of Twilight fan fiction, 50 Shades of Grey, a 16 year old girl has recieved a book deal for her piece of One Direction fan fiction. I’ll repeat that, just so that we can all let that sink in. A 16 year old girl, named Emily Baker, has been signed by Penguin to produce a novel based on her piece of One Direction fan fiction that garnered 30,000 fans at movellas.com.
The story is based around a love triangle featuring two members of One Direction and a normal, everyday teenage girl. I assume we’re supposed to give Ms. Baker the benefit of the doubt and pretend that the normal, everyday teenage girl is a totally imaginary character and not the author herself living out her horny teenage fantasies. Naturally, since signing the deal, all of the original story has been deleted from its online home at Movella. Thankfully, The Independenthas a little snippet of the reworked novel, titled Loving the Band, for those of us who can’t wait for the Nov 1 release date.
“Come for a walk with me,” I said impulsively. He looked at me with indecision clouding his eyes before sighing and seeming to give in to something inside.
“OK, but put this on,” he said, pulling his jumper over my head. “It’s getting chilly.”
The sweater came down to my knees and smelled like a mixture of the salty sea air and Shaq’s musky aftershave. I gently inhaled its scent and pulled it closer round me as the wind whipped up.
We spent the first few minutes walking side by side in silence, but it was a comfortable silence as the sound of water lapping up on the beach and the waves crashing together accompanied us. He kept himself between me and the sea, as if he was afraid the water could hurt me again.
I was the first one to break the silence. “Really, thank you.”
Shaq looked down at me, confused.
“I-I mean thank you for saving my life,” I stammered, wondering what he thought I might have been talking about. “You saved me when no one else could.”
He stopped in his tracks and looked at me seriously, before pulling me to him. “You never need to question whether I’ll be there for you, Jess. I’ll always look after you. You need to know that.”
My heart quickened at his words and his touch, but I ignored its insistent pace, confused by what he was saying.
“But you aren’t, though, are you, Shaq?” I pushed him away, hurt. “In fact, you always feel so far away.”
“You know why,” he growled, head in hands. “Just as long as you’re safe, though – that’s everything that matters.”
“Well, that’s not everything to me,” I said angrily.
Frustration and pain appeared in his eyes as he gently traced his finger down my jaw. “It’s all that can be. I’m watching Riley fall in love with you, Jess.”
This amuses me for a couple of reasons. The first reason is that, as someone who reads a lot of fan fiction (don’t judge me…stop it… I can feel you judging me from here), you begin to notice that several recurring features. For one thing, men do not simply speak. They growl. Which is, of course, totally impractical and probably bad for your vocal chords. For another, sexual frustration is always conveyed through the wanton fondling of jawlines, which, whilst sexy in theory, isn’t totally practical. Also, melodrama, melodrama, melodrama! Obviously, all of these are sprinkled liberally throughout the extract above.
The other thing that really makes me giggle is the fact that, due to copyright reasons, all of the names of the characters and some of the plot had to be change so that they didn’t actually reflect any of the members of One Direction. It is now, according to the press release, a story about “what happens when you meet the boy band of every girl’s dream – and not one but two of them fall for you!” As you can see from the above extract, they have changed one of the boy’s names to Shaq… Shaq… One more time: They called one of the lead characters “Shaq”. Sounds like quality.
So, since Penguin is scouring the internets for talented writers to sign book deals for, and I am a writer who would very much like to be published by Penguin, I have decided to take a moment to put forward my own piece of fan fiction for consideration. It centres around a blogger, who is in no way a reflection of me, and her steady relationship with her work/life committments. In this scenario, the work/ life committments will be played by Ashton Kutcher, because you don’t really like him that much, but he’s persistant. This relationship is struggling but functional, when suddenly it’s put under threat by a sexy newcomer – the internet. For the purposes of the fan fiction, the internet will be played by Ryan Gosling. Because the internet loves Ryan Gosling. To prevent copyright infringement, Kutcher will go by the name of Jaq Butcher (Shaq was already taken), and Ryan Gosling will go by the name of Brian Duckling. The whole thing will feature Ryan/Brian speaking only in a growl and constantly fondling the jaw of the blogger that bares no resemblence to me at all. There will also be high drama – some potential drownings, dramatic rescues, houses on fire. That kind of thing. I haven’t really decided yet. Will Kutcher/Butcher and the blogger’s relationship survive? (Spoiler alert: probably not.)
I was going to use my mad MS Paint skillz to create a movie poster based on the plot of aforementioned fan fiction. However, I got lazy so instead, I give you a picture of Brian Duckling. Essentially he’s Ryan Gosling, but with a twirly moustache. Just to prevent copyright infringement.
I think it has potential. Hey, Penguin. Call me, baby.