Once upon a time, there was a Wattpad writer who awoke on a fine Thursday morning to find some preposterous allegations on a story she had written*:
She considered sarcasm: It's true, guys. I stole that girl's story. I stole her story, I camouflaged it with jokes and grammar and plotlines, and to really throw people off, I wrote it before she did.
She considered righteous indignation: Excuse me? I have never stolen anything in my life! How dare you?!
She considered being really defensive: Here: Look at all my proof! Look at all these progress drafts I have saved! Look at all the places I collected quotes and slipped in references to my personal life and all my fandoms! Here's the friend who I tell every chapter to before I write it!
She considered being really mean: Fuck you you motherfucking motherfucker! Why don't you go back to your home on whore island?
She considered dressing in drag and doing the hula:
She settled on what she hoped was a no-nonsense, Southern-grandmother-with-a-wooden-spoon-who-won't-take-no-shit approach:
But no. Apparently when the Common Sense Train was boarding, this kid was standing on the tracks being hit six ways to Sunday by the Stupid Express, because she just wasn't letting it drop:
Then she turned off her laptop and decided never to open it up again. She ate half a thing of ice-cream and a quarter jar of Nutella, and she sincerely believed that all the calories she consumed during this period would find their way to the butt of the lying girl and would stay there. For life.
The Wattpad writer was experiencing the same emotions felt by many others in the same situation. She was realizing how hard it is to prove ownership of anything on the internet, and how easy it is for some random stranger to drop into your virtual life and fuck things up for you. Suddenly you have to defend yourself against something that came so far out of left field that you have no idea how to respond.
It was unfair. It felt like a violation. The Wattpad writer spent some time smothering the sense of injustice with cookies and old musicals.
She wallowed a bit.
Then she turned on the laptop again.
And found that her readers had released a shitstorm**:
As the messages of support came flooding in, the Wattpad writer started to see the light at the end of the tunnel. The internet was turning into a wonderful place again, and rainbows and unicorns were slowly peeking through the pixels.
Then she received a private message from the girl who had supported the false claims:
|If anybody feels the need to point out that it's a private message so I technically have no way of proving that she actually sent it to me, I will eat you.|
Meanwhile, the readers kept fighting the good fight and kicking ass:
Even Tumblr showed its loyalty:
The girl claiming she wrote Faking It continually deactivated and reactivated her profile. But everybody knew that if she ever came back, they would know how to deal with her. And so eventually, everybody ran out of fucks to give.
The Wattpad writer learned three magical lessons that day.
First, she realized that people are not idiots, and that for every asshole there are fifty , or maybe even a hundred, potential asshole avengers out there. She realized that her readers knew her voice and wouldn't be fooled by imposters, and that they had her back. And those readers were scary as fuck.
Secondly, she arrived at the realization that every person eventually reaches in their life:
|Thank you, Bronn.|
But the most important lesson of the day came as she read over all the comments and messages again, and marveled at how quickly and efficiently her legion of asshole avengers had assembled. And she got that warm fuzzy feeling that comes with the knowledge that you have brought together a group of people who can possibly take over the world someday.
And that, she believes, is the true meaning of happiness: the legitimate hope of future world domination.
The End (For Now).
I wrote this post for two reasons. Firstly, to clear up exactly what happened to those of you who missed it, and to point out that if anybody ever tries something like this again, we'll be prepared.
Secondly, I wanted to thank all my fans for being as awesome as they are. And for once, words pretty much fail me. So I figured that I should just put this post together and confront y'all with the evidence of your own awesomeness.
You guys handled the shit out of this situation.
This is a victory, guys.
Well fucking done.
I know what you're thinking now: "Gee, Misha. Banding together like that to crush the evil forces of the internet was fun. So what're we gonna do tomorrow night?"
|I feel that this is a reasonable response to most of life's more important questions.|
*For those few readers who don't know me from Wattpad: I publish stories in serial installments on several websites. Of all those websites, I've been most successful on one called Wattpad, and on Wattpad, my best known story is called Faking It.
**I've blacked out the names of my fans because I wanted to respect any privacy issues they may or may not have.
P.S. Since this is a Wattpad-themed post, I'll throw this in here. @Twila_B on twitter (BerkleyDrive on Wattpad) puts together outfits to go with stories - sometimes written by her, and sometimes by other people. She put together this outfit for the prologue to Faking It, and I'm pretty much loving it. Check out her tumblog for more.
Disclaimer: I'd like to just clear up that my dentist is actually the nicest guy in the world and I felt almost no pain after he took out my wisdom teeth. However, I was confused because I had a Lord of the Rings-themed cartoon dream while I was knocked out, and I was grumpy because I can't smoke or eat bacon for the next two weeks.