If you’re old enough
to remember life without Twitter, then chances are you are old enough to find
the concept of fandom and its relationship with social media a bit perplexing.
Without going too grumpy-old-man, fans of the older generation can be heard
bewailing the new young innovations with cries of, “In my day, fans had nothing
but conventions and snail mail! You were lucky if you got a package in the mail
every other month with a magazine and a trinket.” To put it another way, in the
years following the birth of Twitter, fandom has moved out of its parents
basement and, blinking somewhat owlishly, stepped into the sun. Gone is the
stereotypical "fan" as a white male with his comic book collection and ability to recite
entire episodes of Star Trek; here to stay is the
self absorbed adult, somewhere between the ages of 13-39, who clutches greedily
at their smart phone and/or tablet, who speaks only in LOLz and hashtags and
who will go down with their ships. However, when we look at the inner workings
of fandom and social media a question does spring to mind: what is the overall relationship of the two?
Let’s clarify something first: fandom is nothing new. So
long as there have products to be excited over, there have been fans. Trekkies,
for example, have been around since the show began in 1966. Cult television has
always produced legions of dedicated followers who stubbornly and passionately
stick with the show, even after it goes off the air. But with advent of social
media (and for my blog here I’m really only going to focus on Twitter even though
Tumblr works in a like manner) the shift has been in power relationships.
Suddenly the fandom feels that they can directly affect their product; through
hashtags, tweets, retweets, and social campaigns, fans have a larger voice in
the inner workings of their favorite TV show—or at least their perception is
that they do.
Let’s talk Twitter. Network TV seems to have finally caught
up to the 21st century in 2013 when Nielsen, the TV ratings gurus,
announced that they would be incorporating tweets into their overall ratings
system. Fans chuckeld ruefully, delighted that Nielsen had finally figured out
what most fandoms have known for quite some time now: TV is no longer a passive
event. In the days of yore, families gathered around their set and simply watched TV. Maybe the next day you
discussed it around the proverbial water cooler, but that was in passing. Can you
image the reaction to Ross and Rachel’s “break” if Twitter had existed? It
would have trended for days. Watching TV is now—for fandoms—an acitivity. Laptops and phones in hand, getting your show to trend is almost as vital as the
actual plot. And the networks are finally clued in.
But how much can a fan really affect their fandom? Can they,
for instance, cause the writers and show runners to change storylines to suit fan
agenda? Some think so. The Supernatural Family—fans of the CW’s Supernatural—constantly try and make
their favorite ship, Destiel (Dean and the angel Castiel) canonized by
participating in internet shipping polls. Nine seasons in and it doesn’t look
like the fans are any closer to making Destiel real. However this doesn’t mean
that fandoms don’t have power. Sometimes a powerful fandom can save a show.
Fox’s Fringe only got to have a fifth
season because fans of the show lobbied for it, to have a real close to the
show they loved so dearly. It didn’t hurt that the Fringe fandom had a habit of smart trending on Twitter and knowing
how to get attention (using specialized hashtags, for example and thereby appealing to the advertisers who fund programing), despite pulling in low numbers. So while there is power in fandom nevertheless it is often aggrandized in the eyes of the fans.
There is something to be said about how far fandoms can
reach. Often times TV shows are localized to a certain geographic
region. Take Doctor Who, undoubtedly
one of the reigning kings of internet fandom. It’s a small, 50 yr old British
show that somehow has become an American sensation. When it was announced that
current Doctor, Matt Smith, would be leaving, the BBC held a 30min special in
order to announce the new Doctor. By less than (ahem) legal methods, somehow, American fans managed to tune in with the
Brits, making Matt Smith, Peter Capalldi, and Doctor Who all trend—in
America—for long after the special. Doctor Who now has a special place in
American popular culture, from the convention halls to the shopping malls and the proof is in the Twitter pudding.
The final point I
want to make here about social media and fandom is the concept of identity.
Fandoms come up with unique names for themselves that serve as identity
markers: Oncers, Whovians, SleepyHeads, SPNFamily, Gladiators, ect. What’s
interesting is that on Twitter people self identify in their profiles. Instead
of having information about your actual self (age, location, job, ect) it has
become a place to identity by fandom. Take my Twitter for instance; there is
nothing there about my educational background or where I am from, but rather what
fandoms I consider myself apart of: MCRmy (My Chemical Romance), Whovian
(Doctor Who), Oncer (Once Upon A Time) and Nerdfighter (followers of John and
Hank Green). These identity markers serve as unifying forces. “I belong with
them,” they say.
So who is affecting whom?
To be sure fandom affects social media—they are what causes trending and
conversation. To a lesser extent social meida affects fandom, occasionally
offering up tidbits and special prizes for those who are apart of the social
media phenomenon. Overall, social media has
made fandom more accessible for everyone and fandom in return promotes the
product better than the network or creators ever could. These two are uniquely
tied from here on out.
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