Emily’s Workshop

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my fanfiction on Chattie.

It’s hard to believe, but it’s been almost four years since I hit publish on the very first chapter back at the end of 2021. It started out as just a simple Demon Slayer parody written in Korean, and eventually, the My Hero Academia universe naturally found its way into the mix. Back then, writing was just pure, unfiltered fun. There was no grand plot I was stressing over—it was a classic crack fic. I wrote whatever wild, absurd ideas popped into my head without a second thought. The words just flowed, and I was updating almost every single day. My protagonist was a complete wildcard, bouncing off the walls and dragging everyone into her chaos.

But as the years passed, life inevitably caught up with me. I got older, my daily routine grew busier, and that endless free time I used to pour into writing just vanished.

Yet, looking back, I realize it wasn’t just the lack of time that changed things. As I navigated the real world, got a bit more worn down by reality, and started thinking more deeply about life, my writing began to shift. The humor dried up. I found that I couldn’t just casually brainstorm those hilarious situations anymore.

And alongside me, my protagonist started to change too. The chaotic, unpredictable girl from my early chapters slowly began to calm down. Without me even intentionally writing her that way, she became more grounded, more reflective, and undeniably more realistic. She was mirroring my own journey.

Sometimes, I catch myself looking back at the beginning of the story, trying to tap back into that raw, bizarre energy I had at the start. But I can’t. It just doesn’t come naturally to me now. That carefree version of me—and that chaotic version of her—belongs to the past. Watching her grow up right alongside me makes me incredibly proud, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t leave a bittersweet taste in my mouth. It feels like flipping through an old photo album and realizing you can never quite go back to those simpler days.

People always talk about authors having these profound, overarching messages they want to share with the world through their stories. Honestly? I still have no idea what mine is. These days, I’m barely managing to scrape together one chapter a year. But even at this painfully slow pace, I can feel it in my gut that both my protagonist and I are still growing. I couldn’t articulate exactly how we’re changing, but the feeling is there.

Maybe I don’t need to have it all figured out right now. Maybe, if I just keep walking this path with her a little bit longer, I’ll finally discover the message I’ve been trying to find all along.I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my fanfiction on Chattie.

It’s hard to believe, but it’s been almost four years since I hit publish on the very first chapter back at the end of 2021. It started out as just a simple Demon Slayer parody written in Korean, and eventually, the My Hero Academia universe naturally found its way into the mix. Back then, writing was just pure, unfiltered fun. There was no grand plot I was stressing over—it was a classic crack fic. I wrote whatever wild, absurd ideas popped into my head without a second thought. The words just flowed, and I was updating almost every single day. My protagonist was a complete wildcard, bouncing off the walls and dragging everyone into her chaos.

But as the years passed, life inevitably caught up with me. I got older, my daily routine grew busier, and that endless free time I used to pour into writing just vanished.

Yet, looking back, I realize it wasn’t just the lack of time that changed things. As I navigated the real world, got a bit more worn down by reality, and started thinking more deeply about life, my writing began to shift. The humor dried up. I found that I couldn’t just casually brainstorm those hilarious situations anymore.

And alongside me, my protagonist started to change too. The chaotic, unpredictable girl from my early chapters slowly began to calm down. Without me even intentionally writing her that way, she became more grounded, more reflective, and undeniably more realistic. She was mirroring my own journey.

Sometimes, I catch myself looking back at the beginning of the story, trying to tap back into that raw, bizarre energy I had at the start. But I can’t. It just doesn’t come naturally to me now. That carefree version of me—and that chaotic version of her—belongs to the past. Watching her grow up right alongside me makes me incredibly proud, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t leave a bittersweet taste in my mouth. It feels like flipping through an old photo album and realizing you can never quite go back to those simpler days.

People always talk about authors having these profound, overarching messages they want to share with the world through their stories. Honestly? I still have no idea what mine is. These days, I’m barely managing to scrape together one chapter a year. But even at this painfully slow pace, I can feel it in my gut that both my protagonist and I are still growing. I couldn’t articulate exactly how we’re changing, but the feeling is there.

Maybe I don’t need to have it all figured out right now. Maybe, if I just keep walking this path with her a little bit longer, I’ll finally discover the message I’ve been trying to find all along.