PSA:

• Characters can have “traditionally feminine traits” without being a Mary Sue.
• Characters can have dark pasts without being a Mary Sue.
• Characters can be genuinly nice, compassionate people without being a Mary Sue.
• Characters can be powerful without being a Mary Sue.
• Characters can be talented without being a Mary Sue.

I Am Sue

I’m not going to define the term ‘Mary Sue’ for you, because that’s been done.

I’m not going to tell why you why I dislike the term, because it’s been done by someone else, and by me. 

What I want to talk about is why we write characters like this- the psychology behind the Sue, as it were. A Sue is not made by her (I would say his, but for everloving reason, when was the last time you heard a character called out as a ‘Gary Stu’ or whatever watered down variant you want to call it) traits, (someone in our Disqus mentioned someone with naturally white hair with purple eyes and etc.- but I do believe that George RR Martin has a character with that coloring, and he did fine) but rather the feeling that the reader picks up from her. Don’t ever discount your instincts as a reader or your readers’ instincts, because they are what make or break a novel. 

What are a ‘reader’s instincts’? It’s your normal instincts, applied to fiction. There are some people that you just don’t like and some characters that you have boundless faith that they are actually good under the baddie persona. In both cases, you are picking up on small signals that give you information about the person, and allowing you to make calls about them. 

When the characters aren’t strong enough to hold a reader’s attention, however, they start to analyze the author in the same way, whether they are aware of it or not. Self-insertion, author opinion, etc, are usually frowned upon, simply because we came here to read fiction, dammit, not meet a new real person (if we wanted to do that, all we’d have lifted our head out of the book already). 
Sometimes, though, readers don’t mind a strong narrative voice overlapping into that kind of territory (at FYCD, for example, you are all rather tolerant of when the other mods and I show a little personality), because they like the author. 

I’ve heard that every disguise is a self portrait. That’s why every character is born from the author, in one way or another. Even the most autonomous character is created from the author looking inwards and then writing about it. Sues tend to not be autonomous. Which is why I normally prefer to just say ‘badly developed character’.

But why do we react so strongly to the portrait known as Sue? Because we all remember,  and hate, the person that we were when we wrote Sues. The person that I typically imagine writing about Sue and her wild adventures is someone of roughly middle-school (that’s 11-14ish, ye that have not the hell known as middle school) who is immature, creative, and up to their eyeballs in the angst that is part and parcel of that age group. Think back *harp strumming sound* you’ve all been there. 

• You desperately want to be ‘different’, to show your differences on your exterior, because otherwise you are lost to the lowing herd of stupid preteens. But your parents won’t let you or you may not be into the hassle of dying your hair purple and wearing color contacts- and besides, that wouldn’t show that you were born different, it wouldn’t show that you are inherently, genetically separate from these idiots. 
• You are not special or particularly good at anything, or at least, you feel that way. From this root, we grow ‘Overly Average Sues,’ or on the other end of the spectrum ‘Massively Talented Sues’, because honestly, after an hour of Spanish class in which tu comprende nada, who wouldn’t want to just learn three languages instantly?
• Everyone else sucks. There are nice people at that age but a lot of people act bitchy. This is a true fact. So that’s why you’re desperate to show that you are ‘not like other girls/boys’ and you’d really rather just be besties with a great big wolf or some other kick ass animal that would follow you around and not judge. 
• Your sense of what is ‘romantic’ is underdeveloped. That’s actually it on that point. Shudder.  
• You feel powerless. This one more than anything else is what makes a Sue, because Sue is, at heart, a power trip. She’s everything about strength and power that you thought or were taught were important at that age that were most invariably wrong. 

Seriously. Go reread a journal or something you have from that time, it’s sickening. 
Which is why we react to Sues. They come from an old, visceral place. We can sense the writer’s hand very strongly, and that forms for us a portrait of the writer- a portrait that reminds us of ourselves at a time when we likely did not like ourselves, that still remains in certain ways. I know I used to be like that, in some ways more than others. I freely admit that I was a bit of a bitch in those years, and while my characters weren’t rainbow colored, they lacked maturity. While I have mostly outgrown it, as I hope you have by the time you’re my age, some elements remain, if only as memories of how not to act. I am Sue. 

So, rather than rolling with your emotions and using the ready-made label next time you are out critiquing a story, think of where the author is coming from.
It’s not about shaming.
It’s about growing as a writer. 
We’ve all been there, so sit back, look at who is probably writing this, and then put your emotions on hold and look at it as objectively as you can.  
Try to imagine their writing with a fat helping of maturity, experience, and growth. Now, leave that parts that will be fixed by that alone, mention specifically the parts that are bad and why you feel that, and remember to think about what is good, and mention that as well. 

That is all. 
I hope that that was helpful or enlightening to you.  
-Evvy
FYCD

Mary & Sues'Guide to... Fanfiction Benedict vs Real Life Benedict

I know that we have discussed Mr Cumberbatch before now, but I think it’s probably prudent to give him his own post. He likes to see his name in lights, after all, and I think he will have felt a little left out when Mary Sue got top billing. So here, I present to you a little something I like to call;

Real Life Benedict vs Fanfiction Benedict (or Quick, Fetch a Raft; He’s going to Drown in his Own Tears)

You might think that Benedict Cumberbatch is a special enough man as he is. Those lips, those eyes, that rapier wit and vocabulary large enough to sink a ship with. You’d be wrong. Writers the world over have mulled it over. They’ve formed a committee, discussed it all at length over green tea and home baked biscuits. This is what they decreed:

And, lo, we shall take the Benedict, and we shall create a super Benedict. A better Benedict.

A Fanfiction Benedict.

And you know what? I’m feeling generous. I’m going to share their secrets.

36 year old British men? Swearing? Oh CRUMPETS NO.

Benedict has a mouth a sailor would be fucking proud of. Find me a man who doesn’t. Find me a person who doesn’t. Apart from my Dad because he doesn’t like swearing, but I’ll level with you all here and tell you I heard him say ‘fuck’ last Christmas, so I think even he’s fucking lying. You’ve all been to the recordings, you’ve all heard the Cheltenham interview, you’ve all got ears. And brains.

Benedict Cumberbatch likes a good swear.

But don’t fall into the trap; Do not allow your Fanfiction Benedict to stoop so low! He is, after all, the Hugh Grant of 2013 (bar a few differences, namely the number of syllables in the name, types of films he is in, and pretty much everything else). He wouldn’t say ‘shit’, what are you thinking? He’d say “Oh flip-flop, I’ve left my wallet in the dingledonging car! What the fudge cake shall I do now?!”

If your Fanfiction Benedict does swear, don’t worry! There’s a remedy. So long as he covers his mouth, looks suitably abashed, and says “Crumpets!” a bit before apologising profusely, you’ll get away with it. Just make sure you point out to your reader that he is Ashamed Of His Behaviour.

Don’t Do It Kids, It’s Bad For You

Real Life Benedict has probably got shares in Marlboro Lights by now, if we’re being truthful about it, hasn’t he? Well, Fanfiction Benedict doesn’t smoke. It is bad for you and thus, he would never do it. Never. Ever. It would be a chink in the armour so, really, don’t let him smoke. No matter how pretty Real Life Benedict looks with a cigarette between his fingers, inhaling deeply and blowing the smoke up towards the sky as his neck str- Sorry. What was I saying?

Ah yes, Fanfiction Benedict Doesn’t Smoke.

If, however, he does look at you with those puppy dog eyes, stick out that bottom lip, and say “Please?” enough times to woo you over to the dark side, here’s a few things you should remember:

1) Whoever he is with at the time must look slightly disgusted by his habit. They could cough probably, or even tell him that it’s bad for him. Because, being a grown man, he wouldn’t be able to work that out for himself.

2) Fanfiction Benedict must always apologise if he smells like smoke. It is a Disgusting Habit. The smell of cigarette smoke mixed with a leather jacket is in No Way Sexy.

3) He must be contrite, apologetic, adamant that he is going to stop. Ashamed Of His Behaviour.

Real Life Benedict may have admitted to smoking pot. However, this is UNACCEPTABLE to Fanfiction Benedict. So unacceptable that it must simply never be mentioned. I mean, for goodness sake, this is Fanfiction Benedict, he’s so well behaved that he’s never even been given a parking ticket! ‘Pot?’ he would say, eyebrows pulling together in confusion, ‘What’s that?’  before offering you a cup of tea, because the teapot is the only kind of pot he has in the house.

Meanwhile, Real Life Benedict has got the munchies something chronic and is on his third bag of Doritos.

No Job Too Big, Small, or Plain Fucking Impossible.

Real Life Benedict may be a busy guy who admits to being late and forgetful, but this does not matter one jot. Fanfiction Benedict is 100% altruistic and exists purely for the benefit of others. He never does anything inconsiderate or mean, and doesn’t ever complain or accuse people of being unreasonable in their demands. He is Perfect. He will fetch and carry and conjure up anything demanded of him.

He goes above and beyond, routinely. You mention that you like a particular variety of wine? Here’s two tickets to the south of France, to visit a little known vineyard where the owner is inexplicably one of his best friends. That you’ve never met.

You’re having your period when you’re supposed to be going on your first date? Fret not! Fanfiction Benedict will be there with a hot water bottle and a packet of paracetamol that you obviously wouldn’t have considered fetching for yourself had he not turned up. He is, after all, a True Gentleman.

He will also remember, within seconds, what each of your favourite food groups is. If he is on particularly good form, he will be able to guess your exact favourite dish purely based on the way you form your vowels, or sip at your coffee. He will then recreate them, either by his mad cookery skills, or by having it delivered from the exact restaurant you first discovered it in.

Out Of The Frying Pan & Into The Incredibly Posh Restaurant

Real Life Benedict may have outed himself as a regular Joe in the cooking department. He can cobble together a few dishes, and deftly chop an onion. Don’t mention the tomato. He’s probably the world’s fastest tomato chopper now, so scarred was he by his attempts on Something For The Weekend, that he stood for hours on end in his kitchen, practising. But in his own words, he is an outstanding “alright” where food preparation is concerned.

Let this not affect your Fanfiction Benedict one jot, I say! You have two options:

1) Fanfiction Benedict is the finest chef in London, bar none. He doesn’t get much time to practice, but if he turned his mind to it then he’d be the only chef in the world with ten Michelin stars. It’s a wonder he’s allowed to cook, he’s so good. It should be illegal. He will shrug it off with a coy smile and a half shrug of one of those muscular yet slim shoulders, but his food will still taste better than a Faberge egg shat out by a gold swan.

Or

2) Fanfiction Benedict is so outstandingly bad at any form of food related activities that it’s a wonder the door to his kitchen hasn’t been sealed off by a local Health & Safety officer. Soup, you say? I’d love to get you some dear, but I don’t know how to open the tin; do I chew around the top with my teeth? I’m going to need your help! Peel a carrot? Do you really want me to lose a finger or even my whole hand? It’s almost a crippling disability, and so instead Fanfiction Benedict dines exclusively on posh restaurant grub and pastries baked lovingly for him by dear old Mary Sue.

Be quite clear here; There is to be no inbetween.

Hush Little Baby, Don’t You Cry…

Okay, in this department one must admit that Real Life Benedict doesn’t help himself. He may or may not talk about crying quite a lot. However, your Fanfiction Benedict must take this to whole new levels. As far as Fanfiction Benedict is concerned, a day is simply not a day unless he has been forced to bow his head, pinch the bridge of his nose and exclaim “I’m sorry! I don’t know why I’m crying, I just….”

There are a number of reasons Fanfiction Benedict will cry, far too numerous to mention actually, but here is a small selection:

1) The beauty of the person he is in love with.

2) The generosity of his fans.

3) The fact someone has actually decided to have sex with him for the first time in a decade.

4) The fact his wife/partner is pregnant.

5) The fact his wife/partner is pregnant.

6) The fact his wife/partner is pregnant.

7) The fact his wife/partner is pregnant.

8) The arrival of the new baby.

9) The changing of the baby’s first nappy. Poo is emotional.

10)  Anything.

He does not cry snotty tears though. Good Lord no, not our beautiful Fanfiction Benedict. Misty eyes and a catching of breath is by far enough to be going on with. How can he concentrate on being Perfect if he has to wipe away more than one tear at a time?

He will also be incredibly apologetic about it, much as you’d have thought he’d have got used to being emotional in front of people by now, given how often it seems to happen. Still, he will be Ashamed Of His Behaviour.

Horse Faced, Arse Named & I Don’t Know What You Mean By The Word ‘Talent’.

Real Life Benedict is something of a workaholic who has, on occasion, made it pretty clear that he thinks he’s not a bad actor. Not in a big headed way, but in a way that says he’s competent at his job and doesn’t really want to do anything else. And that he works hard to be as good as he can be. He seems to be a bit of a flirt, and admits his name is a mouthful.

This is not good enough for Fanfiction Benedict. Your Fanfiction Benedict must be a gibbering wreck of uncertainties about himself. He won’t think he is as good as anybody else he works with, he won’t know how he can act, or even if he can act. Why is he famous? Why is his name what it is?

Ignore the fact he chose to go back to using his full name, don’t loiter over this fact for even a second. His name makes him so uncomfortable that he can barely even stand upright under the weight of it. Interviewers might as well be calling him Cockface Cumberwang for the embarrassment that the name Benedict Cumberbatch causes him. Despite this, he will never ask anybody to call him Ben.

And don’t get him started on his face.

Your Fanfiction Benedict is simply not a well rounded enough character unless he talks about his face as if he is the Elephant Man. Fanfiction Benedict would happily walk about for the rest of his days with a Hessian sack over his head so that people won’t gawp at the monstrosity that is his face. Please don’t single out your favourite feature of his, he has a comeback for all possible compliments. He is, after all, hideously ugly and a blight on society. And he obviously can do nothing about this using hair styling, because he hates that too. It’s too curly and too ginger and he has literally no clue how to go about taming it. He talks about his own hair as though it is a wild animal which he has only just had the misfortune to meet.

Mismatched Socks, Are You Fucking Kidding?

Real Life Benedict has had a bit of a reputation in the past for dressing badly. I won’t say it’s an unfair one, because when you conduct interviews in mismatched socks and turn up to film premieres with paint down your jacket, one should expect people to assume you dress in the dark. And let’s not speak of the time he borrowed Olivia’s straighteners and set about his own hair as if were a shirt which needed ironing…

However, Fanfiction Benedict wouldn’t even know what a mismatched pair of socks were. “Odd socks?” He’d say, “And what do you expect me to do with these?” He is a suave beast who will go nowhere without first flinging on a perfectly pressed and starched Westwood suit. Presumably this is to detract from his hideously malformed face. Whatever the reason, you must never dress your Fanfiction Benedict in knackered old tshirts and ripped jeans. It is something which he will not stand for!

If he is feeling particularly lazy, he could be slouching about the house in a pair of loose fitting slacks. Maybe a cashmere cardigan and bare feet.

NEVER A TRACKSUIT.

Wink, Wank, What?

Real Life Benedict is pretty secretive about his private life, as it should be. But he has been kind enough to let us know that he’s a fantastic lover. Thanks for that, dear, I’m pretty sure that kept a few of us going for a while in the bedr- No, wait, I’m getting distracted again. Whatever he lets us know, it’s fairly safe to assume he’s had sex at some point in his life and, maybe, he knows how to do it.

But let us keep in mind that Fanfiction Benedict is crippled by self doubt, a weird face, and the inability to speak to anyone of the opposite gender. He will simply look on from a distance, weeping into his champagne at his private member’s club about the fact all women are too good for him as he tries to resist the urge to go to bed and touch himself.

Fanfiction Benedict takes a lot of cold showers.

Sometimes, Fanfiction Benedict gets over this and manages to convince an unsuspecting woman to sleep with him. The process of this mating dance is more carefully detailed in our first article entitled “Mary & Sues’ Guide to Mary Sues’. There will be a tentative period of ‘Will They, Won’t They’  and  during the first couple of times, Fanfiction Benedict will be as knowledgeable in the act of sex as the last living Giant Turtle. However once this passes, Fanfiction Benedict will often, and from nowhere, become a Sex God.

Gone are the nerves and the endless apologising he has been doing of late for simply owning a penis and thinking about using it; it is hello to Sex God Fanfiction Benedict. Fanfiction Benedick, if you will. Sorry. He will go from fumbling idiot to a man who can remove a bra with one flick of his index finger, and whoever the lucky lady is will have had ten orgasms before they’ve even had chance to lie down.

He will probably cry.

Adrenaline Junkie, you say? No thanks, I’ll have a cup of tea please!

Real life Benedict likes nothing more than a bit of adrenaline. Well, I say that, I’ve never spoken to him about the subject, but my gist is this; He rides motorbikes, he sky dives, he snorkels, he windsurfs, he- Well. You get the idea. It makes him horny, too, but let’s save that topic for another day.

Fanfiction Benedict, on the other hand, would never do such things. When he isn’t acting, he potters about random bits of English countryside, eating scones and humming classical music to himself as nobody notices him, because they don’t have televisions in the Cotswolds. If he’s really feeling like taking a risk, he might go rambling in the woods and cross a particularly babbling stream. Maybe his feet will get wet, but don’t worry, he’s probably packed an extra pair of socks as well as his picnic.

While Real Life Benedict flings himself out of planes or climbs a mountain, Fanfiction Benedict will be safe and snug in a cottage, wearing a nice woolly cardigan and reading a book. Maybe he’ll be crying at the latest episode of One Born Every Minute before ringing his Mum and making a cup of Horlicks.

There’s one born every minute, but none of them belong to Ben.

Real Life Benedict - oh. Hang on. No. There is no difference. Poor, poor Benedict just really wants a kid. Maybe two. Whether this is his own paternal instincts, or whether he is just desperate to stop Wanda tutting at him and glaring in a way that says “GRANDCHILDREN”, we may never know. But them’s the facts.

Fanfiction Benedict and Real Life Benedict are in full agreement on this matter.

In a hole in the ground, there lives a Benedict.

Real Life Benedict is something of a social butterfly. Rarely at home, he dallies around London and the globe, partying, dancing, drinking, generally having something of a dandy time. He’s a busy man with many a friend. Fanfiction Benedict? Not so much.

Poor, lonely Fanfiction Benedict sits in his empty flat, or maybe a hotel room should he inexplicably be staying in one in London for absolutely no reason whatsoever given that his house is in the same city. You see, he has a problem. His only two friends are Martin fucking Freeman and Tom Hiddleston, both of whom are wildly successful, charismatic, confident and busy men.

He wraps himself in a throw blanket off the sofa, reclines on his settee and waits for them to stop filming whatever they’re filming. He goes to their houses to be accepted as part of the family, which is nice because otherwise he is alone and lost in the Big Bad World. He has nobody to trust now that his fame has spiralled out of all control, and so making new friends is an entirely Impossible Task for poor old Fanfiction Benedict.

There’s Simon Pegg now, too, of course. But Fanfiction Benedict isn’t quite sure how he feels about him, let’s not forget he was  Big Bad Bully on the set of Star Trek and Fanfiction Benedict is in no way, shape or form, capable of sticking up for himself.

But don’t feel too sorry for him, before long Mary Sue will come along and sweep him off his feet, and she’s got lots of friends that I’m sure she’ll be willing to share.

*

And that’s about it. We’ve pretty much talked about everything our Fanfiction Benedict has to offer, and I’m sure now we’re done, you’ll be able to paint a beautiful portrait of him with words. If you want a brief summary of the situation, here it is:

* He cries.

* He doesn’t wank

Until next time…