Do you remember what it was like the first time you met a group of people who all loved, passionately and unashamedly, the very thing you loved? It might be a sport, or a book, or a band. Whatever it was, you found the peer group you'd been waiting for. Someone else with whom to talk over the minutiae, display an astonishing fund of trivia, stand in line with you to buy tickets or get an autograph. All the times you tried to talk about your love to others and got glazed looks or a brush-off suddenly seemed unimportant. This was your new family, and you fit in effortlessly, in your element at last.
I'm not sure if there's anything more wonderful than the moment when you realize everyone wants to hear what you have to say. You don't have to hide your interest, or pretend it doesn't matter as much as all that; no, you can revel in it, trot out every question you've ever had, endlessly debate a fine point. It might seem funny or pointless to outsiders ("You collect what? Really?") but it's something that fires your imagination and makes you happy. It's so good to find the others. It validates your interest and justifies what you've spent on it, whether time or money or both.
For me it was science fiction. I'm absolutely serious when I say finding sf fandom changed my life. I wasn't very happy at the time because I wasn't sure what to do with my life post-college and I didn't like my job. Couple that with naturally low ambition and you get a very bored, very dissatisfied 23 year old. The only thing that made me forget about my lack of motivation and the consequences was reading science fiction. Making contact with fandom gave me a jumpstart by getting my brain working again. Interacting with all those smart, witty people forced me to fire up my social skills, and inspired me to write. Meeting lots of annoyingly articulate and opinionated nerds wasn't so bad, either, because they made me want to improve my debating skills just so I could put them in their place. I was deliriously happy to find fandom, and it was pretty darned happy to find me. There's always room at the table for anyone who can contribute a quip, a thought, a fanzine article, or a burst of energy and enthusiasm. That's the great thing about peer-based families. They're immensely elastic.
If you find in yourself the urge to create the very thing you're a fan of, there's a special place for you among the family. Most of the editors, authors, and other science fiction professionals I know started as fans of the genre. They went to conventions, wrote letters to the editors of the sf magazines, published fanzines, read sf constantly and were determined to be part of writing or publishing it no matter what it took. Some of them were naturals. It was obvious from their personality and intelligence that they belonged in the thick of it. No matter what kind of background they came from they brought a critical eye and discerning taste to the table. They became the authors and publishers and editors they once admired. The rest of us in the family beamed with pride, occasionally tinged with envy, or became spurred on by the competition, and watched to see what would happen next. And the thing we loved most benefitted from the passion and the care everyone poured into it, especially those for whom it was a calling.
I want to thank everyone in science fiction publishing for giving me something special. Your hard work, creativity, and often unseen labors have enriched my life immeasurably. It means the world to me.
The Index
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