The single most annoying thing about being me is that despite everything else I've written, I am best known for writing an annoyed essay about the most common stereotypes of Mary Sues. It doesn't matter what fandoms I've written in, or what ficathons I've run, or what charity events I've organized, or even how much I've beta-read through the years. My fannish name is most recognizably linked to the least-admired character in fandom. It is to weep.

It is also to weep seeing what has become of my little screed. The original litmus test was designed for one fandom, a tiny little fandom that very few people had ever heard of, though we loved it so. Calling it a "litmus test" seemed only natural: dip your character in this, see if it comes up red or blue, and if it's hard to tell, be careful. Whatever you do, don't take it as a hard rule, just a quick check that you're not doing exactly what the last fifty-three people did, and if you are, that you're making an effort to do it differently. Or not, if that's your pleasure, but at least you know it's been done.

The next stage happened when my friend Mandolin asked to make her own test, based off of mine, but modify the questions for Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers fanfic. I said, "Cool!" because I like Mandolin and because I knew the questions wouldn't translate to another fandom. There's no "Alexander's nanny" question for the Power Rangers, no fairies mysteriously exempt from Oberon's Law, etc. A few iterations later, my friend LJC wrote up her own test, discarding my format entirely and instead coming up with questions from scratch, specifically geared for ST: Voyager fandom. Again, it was way cool and exactly what needed to be done. I'd received some complaints about the scoring, so I went back into my test, tweaked some of the questions, and weighted certain questions to be more important than others (naming a character after the author is far more significant for the self-insertion problem than simply sharing a gender with the author, for example). Then I rescored the test with the same characters I'd used to create it, and found out that the breaks between "Not a Sue," "Could Be a Sue," and "Oh My God Kill It Now" happened at the same places. Go me.

But again, this was a test designed for one fandom, and geared towards the writers in the fandom rather than the readers. Our average age seemed to be around sixteen, so I was still addressing younger writers working on their earliest fanfics. The goal was to direct them away from the self-insert stage of writing and into the stage where they could create interesting and honestly original characters.

At some point, that changed. People started using the tests --- not just mine but all the daughter and granddaughter and so on tests --- to mock and poke at the writers they were supposed to be helping. That's not cool. I've argued with people about the trend before, and always get the same lame "just blowing off steam" excuse. Worse, instead of helping people who might otherwise become better writers by realizing that Mary Sues are just a stage that everyone goes through (and they do, even the ones who claim they never have, and if you're reading this, you know who you are) they just make it a bigger problem. Writers get defensive and angry, deny their characters are Sues, bemoan the lack of sophistication of their antagonists, and then go lick their wounds among their supportive friends. (see Fandom Wank, keyword lulz) It's sad, not only for the hurt feelings, but also because it means those writers are going to take that much longer to catch a clue.

And then there's the other side of the argument. Lots of folks don't like the litmus tests because they say real people flunk them. (Bono is usually cited as an example, although to my knowledge, he has never exhibited magical powers, returned from being mostly dead, or turned out to be the long-lost brother of the Prince of Wales. Please mention in the comments if you happen to know otherwise.) There's a fine line between "critiquing a concept" and "missing the point entirely."

While we're on the topic of missing the point, and to drive home why running Bono through a fandom test is comparable to complaining that George W. Bush doesn't fit the Aristotelian mold of tragic hero, let us touch upon Canon Sues, and Why That Word Does Not Mean What You Think That It Means.

Since Mary Sue has become one of the biggest insults that can be leveled against a character, fans have placed the label on fanfic characters and canon characters alike. In fanfiction, Mary Sues are easy to spot because we know what to look for: a character who comes into the storyverse and takes over the narrative by being just that darn cool. A character who doesn't belong, who doesn’t fit in with the flow of the other characters, who stands out even in a group of outstanding characters, that's her. We dislike her in fanfic because we signed on to read about the characters we know and love, and while we don't mind and sometimes even seek out original characters who add to the universe, mostly we want to learn new things about the people we already know. Fanfiction Sues are the ones who stand up in the front row saying "Look at me!" while we're trying to watch the show.

Canon Sues are canonical characters who get turned into Mary Sues in fanfiction. A canon character who, unbeknownst to anyone else, turns out to have a deeply tragic backstory. A character who suddenly exhibits special powers/abilities that make her/him much cooler than before, and instead of having to deal with the consequences, just gets more attention by the rest of the cast.

Canon Sues are NOT Sues in canon. Characters you don't like are also not Sues in canon. Sues in canon are Sues. And there aren't as many of them out there are fans like to say there are.

Samantha Carter on Stargate: SG1 is not a Mary Sue. She wasn't created to be an author insert, she was created to be a romantic interest and to add some gender balance to a testosterone-driven series. The powers that she receives from briefly being a Tok'ra are minimal, only serve plot-device functions, and don't make the rest of the cast worship her. The series is not focused on her or her character development. Of the main cast, she has spent the least number of times dying, being mourned by the team, and coming back from the dead. Her expertise is useful on missions (and hasn't been rendered obsolete by the third episode when suddenly everyone speaks English, for example). In short, she's a character. Love her or don't, but she's not a Sue.

Wesley Crusher on the first season of Star Trek: The Next Generation is a Mary Sue. (All apologies to Uncle Willy.) He's an acknowledged self-insert for Gene Roddenberry. He's compared to Mozart in his youthful genius. Multiple members of the cast treat him in a special fashion, including the otherwise child-unfriendly Captain. He gets more screen time and plot arcs than his mother. He's invited on more Away Missions than his mother. If it weren't for Riker taking on the role of Gary Stu what gets laid every other episode and gets offered phenomenal cosmic powers by Q and so on, he'd corner the Trek Sue market. Instead, they share the prize. In later seasons, the writers and the actors worked together to fix both characters, and they were allowed to make mistakes and have consequences, and this is how Sues grow up.

Sues in canon are a completely different beast than other Sues. Normal Mary Sues change the shape of the universe in which they're dropped. Sues in canon have the fabric of the universe designed around them. Sometimes they share traits with their cousins (the striking eyes and hair color mentioned constantly, the tragic past, the strange superlative to make them even more remarkable in a cast of remarkable characters) and sometimes they have their own unique quirks (the youngest/first person ever to do something, the odd specialty that doesn't advance the plot but does get described in loving detail anyway, the overwhelming esteem/kindness in which other characters hold him/her). While there have been attempts to make original fiction litmus tests, they fail because Sues in canon are pulled directly from the deepest wishes in their creators' hearts, and there's just no way to test for that across the genre. You can't.

Just because you don't like a character, it doesn't mean s/he's a Sue. Just because you like a character, that doesn't mean s/he's not. What makes a Sue a Sue is not one single trait on a test. Sues are born entirely in the mind of the creator. Any character too beloved by her or his creator has the potential to become a Sue; any character so beloved of her or his creator that the rules of the universe change for her/his sake is going to become one. That's it.

The women on Supernatural are not Mary Sues. Lana Lang on Smallville is. (Or was. I gave up on the show a long time ago. Millar and Gough may have finally fixed her.) Harry Potter could be --- he pings the litmus test pretty hard --- but isn't. Plenty of canonical characters are. More aren't. And really, there's no point in hunting for them, or trying to determine the precise species when you think you’ve caught one. Either you like a character or you don't. Your opinion is not going to change how the pros do their work, especially in cases where they are clearly in love with their own reflected creations.

There is nothing wrong with being in love with your own creation.

Let me repeat that, because I'm going to get arguments: there is nothing wrong with being in love with your own creation. It's fun, it's easy to write, and it's great for your self-esteem to dress yourself up in the privacy of your imagination and become the coolest kid on the block with the most awesome powers. It's healthy to work through your fears and your emotions via fiction. It's cathartic.

There's nothing wrong with catharsis.

There's nothing in the world wrong with writing Mary Sues.

No, really.

The only problem with Mary Sues is when you bring them out in public. If you don't tell readers/viewers up front that s/he is what s/he is, they're going to tell you instead, and if they've seen enough of the exact same character, they're going to let you know that, too. Some will be polite about it and suggest you work on your writing. Some will flame you to a crisp. (I personally will mock you behind your back, but we all have our own hobbies.) It's a stage, and like any other stage, the people who've grown out of it look down on those who haven't.

What about the litmus tests and the pages and pages of natterings about Sues? They're advice. They're tips from writers who've been there on how to get through and out. Not everyone wants out, not everyone wants through, and again, there's nothing wrong with the catharsis this stage offers. But when you're ready to move on, they're here to assist you as you figure out where to go next and how to get there. They're not here (or they're not supposed to be here) to beat you over the head, to trumpet to your opposing 'ship that their favorite character is a Sue, or even to try to figure out if rock stars are real. They're here to help, if you want that help.

And when you finally do grow out of it, go easy on the kids still playing dress-up. If you can't, go play somewhere else. The playground is big enough for all of us.