Sans Fig Leaf

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"Freaky secret"

2 October, 2003

I spent my birthday with a bunch of freaks and geeks, among them some of my dearest friends. We were at the sixth annual convention put on by Conifur Northwest. And this year I was one of the people responsible for the whole thing. Not in charge mind you, except on those occasions when the con chair left site briefly for a meal, but clearly I'm involved deeply enough in this fandom thing that I'm willing to put a lot of time and energy into putting on an event.

At one point one of those friends observed how he had just recently tried to explain to his family about this odd hobby he's involved in. They seemed to take it just fine, though he had been nervous that they might not. Another friend pointed out that his parents have never understood any of his interest in science fiction, fantasy, or any other "imaginary stuff." He just avoids talking to them about it. After hearing those two tales, I felt strangely blessed.

See, after I got back from the convention, I called my Mom to let her know I had received her birthday wishes. She had forgotten I would be out of town on my birthday until she had called my office and heard my voice mail greeting. Then she remembered that I had told her about my planned absence, but couldn't remember where I said I would be. So I told her all about it. Her reaction? She sighed and said, "It's been years since I had time to go to a convention. Maybe one of these days I can take some time off and go to a con with you. Wouldn't that be fun?"

See, not only am I a freak, I'm a second generation freak. My mom accidently taught me how to read at an early age by reading to me from her favorite two authors: Robert Heinlein and Agathe Christie. She introduced me to comic books. She was an X-men fan long, long before it was cool to be one, back in 1966 or so.

She isn't exactly gung ho about all aspects of science fiction, fantasy, and comics. She stopped reading Heinlein for many years when his books began to deal realistically with sexuality, for example. She is a born-again, fundamentalist christian who gets disturbed by all sorts of things that occur in the fandom. However, she is no more offended by the porn fan art than she was by the character "7 of 9" in Star Trek: Voyager. She's offended by both, mind you, she just thinks it's all pretty much the same thing. And she doesn't try to enforce her taste on others. The most she will say is, "I wish they wouldn't do that."

Not all of my relatives are quite so easy going about it. Some of my cousins are into science fiction and such. But even they seem to be a bit confused as to why I spend so much time going to events or helping to put them on. I'm not sure what they think of the small press magazine I publish. Several of them have commented on it, but most remain silent. Maybe I'm reading too much into that.

Sometimes I am asked why I don't write or publish something more serious. I used to get asked much more often why I didn't write stories that would "lead people to god" or something similar. I tried to explain that story telling, good story telling, is always about things that are important to people. Love. Loss. Happiness. Sorrow. Art and literature should illuminate truth, not preach a moral. When confronted with truth, some readers will also find a moral, while others will find more questions. Most of those I tried to explain it to didn't seem to understand.

I had a bit more success explaining the purposes of the literary and arts project. They all seemed to understand the bit about helping contributors improve their creative skills.

While that is an important goal that I've pursued in many fannish projects. I have to confess that it isn't the primary reason I do all this stuff. For one thing, I always feel as if I am learning more than I am managing to teach.

But the real reason I do it is because I like to. It's as simple as that. I get a kick out of seeing a project come together. There's something unbelievably fun and exciting about holding in your hands a booklet, magazine, or book, and knowing "I made this." There are only two things even more thrilling than the charge I get seeing a new publication come off the press. One is when I see the happy glint in the eyes of someone whose art or story is included in the book I made. The other is the happy smile on the face of a reader when he or she picks up a copy, intending to buy it.

A convention or a clinic or workshop is a lot like a publication in that regard. It fun to see it come together. It's even more satisfying to see someone else bask in the glow of participating in the event.

Mom asked me if I had a good birthday. I told her we were frightfully busy, hauling stuff to the hotel, setting it up, sorting out problems, dealing with things. It was an exhausting day. And I loved every minute of it. "I know," she said, "you've always love to make things happen. And the harder it is to do, the more fun you seem to have."

So it isn't about any lofty philosophical goal. It's about the fun.