A Crush On Fandom

Dear Fandom,

I didn’t know you existed. Not really.

I’ve caught glimpses of you my entire life. You looked different each time, but still familiar. You were kindred.

I first recognized you on the playground. Swinging, I pretended to fly on fairy wings and saw you use the slide as a rocket launcher. In kindergarten, you came dressed as an alien dragon with tinfoil tail and pasta strainer on your head. You were humming the Star Wars theme. I would see you in third grade homeroom, doodling superhero self-portraits, and I always secretly wished you would draw me beside you, in a purple cape and silver boots.

When I was ten and saved up pocket change to run down the block to the used bookstore, you were there across the piles of Le Guin and Brooks. You’d usually make room for me on the floor of the neighborhood library as we sat side-by-side without touching, looking through the newest McCaffery and Heinlein, Pratchett and Cherryh. On rare occasions, we made eye contact, but usually our gazes stayed on the pages, too shy to smile.

In junior high, when the kids were cruel, I knew you must be out there, but I didn’t see you. I began to write because I had no one else to talk to.

In high school, I drifted away a little, pre-occupied with honors classes and yearbook duties, but I thought we exchanged a knowing glance as the class discussed Bradbury and Yeats. I definitely heard your voice carried on the Aquanet air talking about V and The Next Generation. I strained to hear you over the Talking Heads. I wish I had looked for you then.

College introduced me to “magic realism,” I didn’t recognize you as we chatted over chai about Morrison and Allende, but you reminded me how much I loved to be surprised and enchanted in otherworldly ways.

It was love at first sight when you showed me your Tolkien and handed me my first Sandman. Afterwards you introduced me to Stars Our Destination on Clarke, and arms aching with books, my world broke open. My heart broke open, and I remembered the magic of those stories and the joy I felt in writing. I decided not to become a lawyer, but a writer.

In graduate school, I tried to learn craft and looked for you in discussions about Joyce. I found you cradling Faulkner, and I respected you when you talked about the mythology of Marquez, the allegory of Rushdie, and the re-visioning of Angela Carter.

I never knew I’d find you at a drumming circle or in the Goth bar, but there you were, and we discussed Gaiman and Straub, Wolfe and George R.R. Martin. We waxed philosophical about Babylon 5 and Deep Space 9, X-Men and Star Trek Nemesis. We became friends. We cheered while watching BSG. We discussed Stevenson, Sedia, and Scalzi. We rallied around the return of The Doctor. We waited patiently (mostly) for A Dance With Dragons. We remembered Clarke, McCaffrey, Bradbury, Sendak, and too many others who’ve died. We became family.

My first book was published, and you read it. I could not believe it became an Amazon bestseller in Winter 2011, and I knew you were among the readers because I recognized your reviews; you praised the mythology, dreams, and “fantastic” elements. You liked the magic I put into it.  It reached the Top 10.

When I worked with the Chicago Literary Hall of Fame to create the Fuller Awards, I knew it had to be Gene Wolfe who was honored first. I invited beloved writers and editors who also adored Gene’s writing, and they came. You came. I had never seen so many of you in one place.

Then there was Chicon 7.

It was my first Worldcon ever and my first real Con. I had been to Academic conferences and literary expos, but they are a different animal altogether because you are not always there, not so many of you in one place.

So many of us in one place.

I came to Chicon 7 to sell and sign my book and debut the first chapter of our graphic novel. I stood behind the table in the Dealers Room for five days and watched as people passed by.  You were there: alien dragon and rocketman, Superwoman and Sandman, Vulcan and Hobbit. You held hands, or walked quietly alone. Sometimes you stopped to talk, other times you nodded and kept walking. You wore Whovian scarves and steampunk goggles, and we nodded with recognition. You signed books and prints. You discussed the naming of characters and the qualities of villainesses. You paraded in costumes and received awards with grace and joy. You made me proud to be a part of it all.

2012 Hugo award winners at Chicon7. Photo by David Dyer-Bennet

I never knew it could be like that—so many creators and lovers of science fiction and fantasy in one place. I never knew you had been doing this for 70 years.

Learning to Be Dangerous Panel. Photo by Jonathan Crowe.

After one panel, when you discussed how some writers try to dodge the “ghetto” of Science Fiction and Fantasy, I wanted to rush home and finish my next novel because I want in. I’m not trying to dodge anything. Quite the opposite, I wish to be a part of that continuum, those brilliant imaginative storytellers and the people who adore what is created.

The beauty of what I saw, the magic of fandom, is that fans don’t just close a book and put it on the shelf. Fans engage with the text. Whether it’s a comic, novel, or film, they continue the conversation. This allows the stories to have a special type of longevity, and it creates a community that cares enough about those ideas, characters, places, and philosophies to want to create panels, plays, costumes, zines, awards, and more.

Photo by David Dyer-Bennet.

The beauty is in that co-creation and conversation. What author, what artist, would not wish to be a part of that?

I do.

I love so many of the stories and the authors who createed them. In recent years, some of them have become friends, and their friendship is a treasure, but this week I have a crush on fandom. Or would that be a Con-crush? I don’t know the lingo, the Con history and traditions. When I wasn’t behind the Wolfsword Press table, I felt a bit lost. It seemed that everyone else knew where to go and what to expect, but I’ll learn because even though Chicon 7 was exhausting and exhilarating, what I experienced broke me open again in the best possible way.

A new friend from this Worldcon weekend is writer and editor Stephen H. Segal, who gave me a copy of his book Geek Wisdom: The Sacred Teachings of Nerd Culture on the last day of the Con. It was the perfect gift to end the weekend, and I’d like to quote from his introduction:

“Hence Geek Wisdom: the first compendium of sacred teachings from the wide-ranging “holy scriptures” of geekdom, that weird mass of pop culture and high art ranging from blockbuster movies to esoteric novels to cult classic T-shirt slogans. Star Wars. The Princess Bride. Albert Einstein. Stan Lee. From such sources we’ve gathered (and moved thoughtful upon) the deepest, purest, most profound ideas and sayings to be found. The ones that cut right to the heart of life in the twenty-first century. The ones we quote as if they’ve come from the Bible, or from Shakespeare. The ones that, increasingly, have emerged from the underground to form the cellular structure of a true culture cannon.

Our culture canon. And thus does the geek inherit the earth.”

Geek Wisdom. It definitely defines a large part of my life. Segal’s book highlights some of the best building blocks of that culture. That foundation is part of the reason more than 5,000 people gathered in Chicago for Chicon 7. It’s who we are and what we did this past weekend—build upon what has come before and stretch beyond comfortable boundaries to create anew.

After coming home and crashing, after laundry and unpacking, I am going to write tonight. I have so many stories. I can’t wait to share them with you, and I want to see what you come up with as well. I want to talk with you, because we have a common nerd culture, we have a history, and I look forward to our future.

Until we meet again.

Love,

Valya

Spending time with friends at Chicon (with Madeline Matz and Gene Wolfe). Photo by Teri Goulding

Reading Naked and Reading Clothed

Tomorrow is the Naked Girls Reading Literary Gala and I am one of 5 finalists to have my work read by the lovely ladies of the Everleigh Club in Chicago.

Reservations are required. You can purchase tickets in advance here.

I will neither be naked nor reading on Friday night, but I will be reading (clothed) from The Silence of Trees at the first Chicago Book Expo to be held in Uptown this weekend.

The Chicago Writers House Project is creating a pop-up bookstore in the empty Uptown’s Borders on Nov. 19-20. Featuring more than 40 fiction and poetry presses, Chicago Book Expo 2011 will also include readings, a nonprofit fair, live performances, and architectural walking tours.

For more information, check out their website www.chicagowritershouse.org . They will have panels, workdhopd, children’s programming and more!

I’ll be at the table for Wolfsword Press/The Chicago Creative Coop. Stop by and say hello! I may have cookies. I’ll also be reading (clothed) on Saturday, November 19, 1:00 pm in the basement of the Uptown Broadway Building (former speakeasy) 4701 N. Broadway.

Wolves, Graveyards, and the Name Lupescu

For those who don’t know, Lupescu comes from the Latin lupus, meaning wolf; and so it means of the wolf in Romanian–mothertongue of my husband’s ancestors. Yes, Romania, land of werewolves, vampires, and Magda Lupescu; I married into quite a history and legacy.

*devilish grin*

Our ancestry being what it is, our family is fascinated with wolves. Truth be told, I loved wolves before I met and married my husband, and our oldest daughter has been drawn to wolves and other furry animals since birth, but those are stories for another day.

Interesting that Neil Gaiman’s 2009 Newbery Medal winner, The Graveyard Book, features a character names Miss Lupescu. I won’t give anything away, but let’s say that she lives up to her ancestry and etymology.

I like to think that someday, when I have a few published books under my belt, my path will cross with Neil’s (whom I admire), and I will share with him my amusement at having one of my names appear in one of his books. Perhaps I’ll return the favor someday.

And speaking of wolves and children’s books, a writer-friend has written a lovely children’s book about wolves. Scotti Cohn, another Illinois native, has written One Wolf Howls available at Sylvandell Publishing: http://www.sylvandellpublishing.com/Wolf.php

This from Scotti’s website:

Spend a year with Scotti Cohn in the world of wolves in One Wolf Howls. This adventurous children’s book uses the months of the year and the numbers 1 through 12 to introduce children to the behavior of wolves in natural settings. The lively illustrations of Susan Detwiler complement the rhyming text and bring each month to life. From January to December, howl, frolic, and dance — while learning important lessons page-by-page!

Support an emerging writer and a small press, while getting a fantastic book to share with the wee ones (or wolf-lovers) in your life. It is a beautifully written and illustrated book, and I hope that it is well-read and well-loved. I know it shall be in our home.