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Snowflake Challenge #3!
Jan. 5th, 2026 20:59Write a love letter to fandom. It might be to fandom in general, to a particular fandom, favourite character, anything at all.
Not quite a letter -- I suck at all things epistolary -- but a great big shout-out and a whole wide world of love to tiny fandoms and the people in them... be they writers, readers, or lurking squee-ers.
I see a lot of people posting on other platforms about decreases in 'engagement' in their fandoms, and it's most often from big-fandom folks lamenting that their last fic got less than a hundred kudos. And while I can definitely understand their particular perspective -- big fandoms are big, and the nature of the Internet has become such that everything feels like a numbers game and/or a competition -- I also kind of feel like everyone should spend a year or so in a fandom with less than half a dozen people in it.
Spending time with a Thing -- and creating for that Thing -- solely for the love of it, knowing that you're likely to get low double-digit hits, much less comments or kudos, is such a freeing experience... and the small handful of kudos and comments you do get in an environment like that -- just the idea that somebody else loves the Thing as much as you do, and took the time to read your silly fic about it! -- means the whole darn world.
I'm not exaggerating when I say a single kudo on one of my fics will sustain me for a full week... or when I say it felt like Christmas to see someone post a single 100-word drabble -- for a ship I don't even enjoy! -- after seven straight months of only my own work in the fandom tag. That delirious joy at finding out there's one or two other people out there thinking about your silly little fandom... that's a feeling that I think can easily get lost in the competitive numbers-game of big fandoms with big social media presences.
So, yea. This is a love not-quite-letter to those thriving in tiny, barely-existent spaces with only a couple of others, finding ways to sustain their own love and creativity for the Thing. We may not make as much noise as the bigger spaces, but we have our own kind of fun, and it's worth every otherwise-silent second.
Not quite a letter -- I suck at all things epistolary -- but a great big shout-out and a whole wide world of love to tiny fandoms and the people in them... be they writers, readers, or lurking squee-ers.
I see a lot of people posting on other platforms about decreases in 'engagement' in their fandoms, and it's most often from big-fandom folks lamenting that their last fic got less than a hundred kudos. And while I can definitely understand their particular perspective -- big fandoms are big, and the nature of the Internet has become such that everything feels like a numbers game and/or a competition -- I also kind of feel like everyone should spend a year or so in a fandom with less than half a dozen people in it.
Spending time with a Thing -- and creating for that Thing -- solely for the love of it, knowing that you're likely to get low double-digit hits, much less comments or kudos, is such a freeing experience... and the small handful of kudos and comments you do get in an environment like that -- just the idea that somebody else loves the Thing as much as you do, and took the time to read your silly fic about it! -- means the whole darn world.
I'm not exaggerating when I say a single kudo on one of my fics will sustain me for a full week... or when I say it felt like Christmas to see someone post a single 100-word drabble -- for a ship I don't even enjoy! -- after seven straight months of only my own work in the fandom tag. That delirious joy at finding out there's one or two other people out there thinking about your silly little fandom... that's a feeling that I think can easily get lost in the competitive numbers-game of big fandoms with big social media presences.
So, yea. This is a love not-quite-letter to those thriving in tiny, barely-existent spaces with only a couple of others, finding ways to sustain their own love and creativity for the Thing. We may not make as much noise as the bigger spaces, but we have our own kind of fun, and it's worth every otherwise-silent second.
