Languages: Finish, Russian, Romanian and Greek. I'm thinking of starting Mandarin this summer :)
I hope I have helped. I realized that I sounded like a cad at the start and you wrote as though you did want to improve and I believe there is hope in passion. But before you jump into fanfic, write what you know. Then twist the memories into "could have." Fiction writers are all about creating believable lies (okay and some non-fic, too haha). But hone that skill of storytelling first. Then add other stores of "if this character were here... how would they actually react?" Example:
Draft 1: When I was five years old I truly believed there were crocodiles under my bed. My grandmother was talking to my auntie about someone terrorizing the young girls in the village by putting on crocodile masks and hiding under their bed. I haven't forgotten that story and now I keep a dozen boxes under my bed.
Draft 2. When I was five years old my favourite activity at my grandmother's house was to sit at the top of her giant staircase and watch people walk below or listen to the adults speak in the sitting room or kitchen. I went to grandmother's house every weekend so Mom and Dad could have "Special Time," whatever that was. One fine Saturday morning, after sleeping in and stuffing my tummy with Grandma Waffles, I perched myself on top of that staircase like other weekends I spent there. My legs dangled from between the polished wood columns and over the wall. I was careful not to bang my heel into the wall. In my left hand I held a small pink doll and, in the right hand, I had a little red car. I swung my legs back and forth (carefully!) and listened to my grandmother and my auntie talk in scandalous tones.
"Did you hear what happened to Sander's daughter?" My grandmother asked.
"No, I didn't," My auntie replied.
"Well, some young man shoved a crocodile mask on his face, hid under her bed, and waited until the evening to grab her legs! Scared her so bad she kicked him in the face and he lost a tooth!"
"Why the hell would someone do that?"
"Because kids these days are bored and stupid."
I felt my eyes grow wide in my head. Not because my auntie used "hell" (even though I knew it was a Bad Word) but because my brain fantasized that crocodiles could live under someone's bed and grab their ankles. My five year old mind didn't register what a "mask" was, but it sure knew what crocodiles were. Giant lizards who would snatch little girls from under their bed just because they could. I made a vow that Saturday morning; my bed would always be crammed with boxes so no crocodile could ever fit there. I've stuck with that idea well into my 30's. Hell, my current bed doesn't even have a frame, just a couple mattresses on the ground with fluffy pillows on top. No crocs allowed. *
In the first draft I get the gist of the idea out. I get out the who, what, where and when, but not the how. I go back over the story to paint a worded picture of what I was doing at five to have caused me to overhear a story between the two women and how that story crept into my five year imaginative brain. Now we could 'Anne Rice' it and describe the exact details of the staircase, what kind of wood it was, how tall the staircase was, the layout of the house, what my grandmother and auntie were doing based on sounds, but it would take away the picture in the person's mind. And I don't want to be in Architecture Digest. (I love Anne Rice but she has a creepy fascination with house descriptions). The most I might add on the final draft is that they were in the kitchen, off to the side and I could hear dishes being moved around and the sound of water, drawing a conclusion they were washing the morning dishes. Or they could just be sitting at the table, drinking their tea and smoking cloves. To the five year old mind, however, it wouldn't matter, nor would it be something I'd remember. The conversation is what mattered. (To be fair I'm a technical writer, so I'm sure this is dry reading).
Now let's take that into what you want to do- fanfiction of set characters. Give them a life before your story. Like in art, draw a pencil sketch, something you can erase at later points if you think their shirt doesn't fit right. How did their parents treat them? What kind of antics did they get involved? How many love interests have they had? Has their heart been broken? What is the basic story of how they got to the point where you start their story. That's your outline. You can fill in the colours with your story progressing.
When one of the characters in your story is walking to his car, listening to the paved parking lot crunch beneath his feet, what is he thinking? What is he feeling? Is he tired, annoyed? Hungry? This is where you draw from your life. Think about decisions you could have made to land in Hollywood. -Remember that time that girl in the 9th grade called you a "loser" because you wanted to try out for the main part in Fiddler on the Roof "You couldn't get that part if you paid Miss Marsh." Miss Marsh was the drama teacher, old and crinkly, but kind in her own way. I stepped onto that stage and I sung my fucking heart out and you bet your ass I got the lead part and that 9th grade tart who called me a loser is now working at a fast food joint. But me? I got in. I got made. And now here I am, wondering if a part of me is a "loser" after all, trying to get this stupid film finished when all my actors are having drama queen parties instead of sticking to the damn script. - Now you've got a bit of anger with bitterness dashed into the character's frame of mind.
When you draw your characters, there's a starting point right? One line, two lines, a half circle, a triangle... I love comics and graphic novels because the artist never knows where they are going just that they need to get there. The pen can take a mind of its own; let it. Let your memories and the people around you be your guide. If you can write fiction of your own life, you can write fiction of anyone's life (or just about.) And remember: the less said the better. People who love reading have active imaginations- push them into that direction and let their imagination flow.
*The above story is true. The neighbor boy who got caught doing that broke his nose (not his teeth) and it was crooked for the rest of his life. We called him Croc and never let him escape his teenage antics. He ended up marrying the Sander's daughter :)
-timate.
approves.
