Turning ten...
I'm turning ten in fandom this year.
Being the obsessive-compulsive type that I am, I've kept records of my beginnings in fandom. A bit odd, that, because back then I was still fairly convinced it would only be a short, transitory type of madness, and not a lasting and defining feature of my life. Why did I feel a need to keep records of it, then? Guess some part of me knew better already. (I'd been obsessive about things before - it's always been a feature of my psyche, really - but it had always been a solitary thing, and something I was vaguely ashamed of. I never sought out a community. Tried, and without exception failed, to win friends over, yes, but never tried to find people who were already into something I was into.)
I have my first print-out from the net, dated 4.3.98, in a big rinbinder, along with a lot of other material - years later ironically titled 'Hmpf - the early years': first posts to the old Rysher HL forum and the MacMINT asylum, drafts for posts (back then I could only go online once a week for an hour or so, so I thought *very* well about what I wanted to say), notes about obsession in general, notes for my old, (in)famous Methos essay (published 1999, I think, on my first website). Oh, my painfully awkward English. *g*
Maybe I can get some of my old Methos drawings from that period scanned tonight or tomorrow. I'm going to visit my parents, and they have a scanner. It would be fitting to put them up this year. Not that they're very good, they really aren't - portraiture = not my strong point! - but they're part of my history. (And they're no worse than 90% of the fanart out there, really.)
1998 was an exciting year, the year a lot of my preconceptions about myself toppled. I entered fandom so convinced that I was better than most people in it; I'd totally bought into the pathologising mainstream view of it. I still entered it, because, like a junkie, I needed my Methos fix (not fic - not yet *g*). But I felt vaguely guilty, and a bit dirty, and very, very confused, those first few times. Also, very disconnected from everybody else - I *couldn't* be like them, could I?
Thankfully I'm not *terminally* dense, so I noticed fairly soon that fandom was... different. Different from what I'd expected - much *better* than I'd expected. Much more fun; much more intelligent; much more *subversive*. I discovered fic, and it boggled my mind, in the best possible way. I discovered communities (the old Highlander fandom clans) and forums and began to interact, awkwardly, with the people of this strange culture I'd discovered. (It would take years for that awkwardness to disappear completely.) I experienced for the first time the kindness of strangers that is so characteristic of fandom - a HL fan named Jean sent me copies of her Methos eps. (She died of cancer a few years ago. I hadn't kept in touch with her, because back then I was still figuring out how much distance and closeness were acceptable on the net. I regret that now.)
I fell in love with fandom, little by little. By 1999 I wasn't ashamed of calling myself a fan anymore; by 2000 I was proud.
And today? Well, I wouldn't be who I am without fandom. I probably wouldn't be writing. I would have far fewer friends. I would still obsess, because that's hardwired, but I'd do it in solitude, and feel ashamed about it. And I wouldn't be so *creative* about it.
On the other hand, I might be more creative in other areas of my life - I might still be painting - because the need for creativity, too, seems to be hardwired. However, I don't regret putting so much of my creative energy into fandom, because it's *nice* to have a creative outlet that isn't solitary. (And, ultimately, I think I am better at writing than I am at painting. Painting always felt like 'just a hobby'. Writing, on the other hand, on the better days feels like a vocation.)
I would be more 'respectable' without fandom, no doubt. My less respectable urges would be nicely sequestered away, invisible, as they are for most people.
My parents wouldn't find me so baffling. There wouldn't be so many essential parts of me that they can't understand - or rather, there would, but, as before I found fandom, they wouldn't be visible. There wouldn't be an invisible culture gap in my life. Only the gap between what I am and what I show people of me, the gap that exists in the lives of most 'normal' people.
I also probably wouldn't be on the internet, because fandom was the only reason I bought my first computer in 1999. *g*
Being the obsessive-compulsive type that I am, I've kept records of my beginnings in fandom. A bit odd, that, because back then I was still fairly convinced it would only be a short, transitory type of madness, and not a lasting and defining feature of my life. Why did I feel a need to keep records of it, then? Guess some part of me knew better already. (I'd been obsessive about things before - it's always been a feature of my psyche, really - but it had always been a solitary thing, and something I was vaguely ashamed of. I never sought out a community. Tried, and without exception failed, to win friends over, yes, but never tried to find people who were already into something I was into.)
I have my first print-out from the net, dated 4.3.98, in a big rinbinder, along with a lot of other material - years later ironically titled 'Hmpf - the early years': first posts to the old Rysher HL forum and the MacMINT asylum, drafts for posts (back then I could only go online once a week for an hour or so, so I thought *very* well about what I wanted to say), notes about obsession in general, notes for my old, (in)famous Methos essay (published 1999, I think, on my first website). Oh, my painfully awkward English. *g*
Maybe I can get some of my old Methos drawings from that period scanned tonight or tomorrow. I'm going to visit my parents, and they have a scanner. It would be fitting to put them up this year. Not that they're very good, they really aren't - portraiture = not my strong point! - but they're part of my history. (And they're no worse than 90% of the fanart out there, really.)
1998 was an exciting year, the year a lot of my preconceptions about myself toppled. I entered fandom so convinced that I was better than most people in it; I'd totally bought into the pathologising mainstream view of it. I still entered it, because, like a junkie, I needed my Methos fix (not fic - not yet *g*). But I felt vaguely guilty, and a bit dirty, and very, very confused, those first few times. Also, very disconnected from everybody else - I *couldn't* be like them, could I?
Thankfully I'm not *terminally* dense, so I noticed fairly soon that fandom was... different. Different from what I'd expected - much *better* than I'd expected. Much more fun; much more intelligent; much more *subversive*. I discovered fic, and it boggled my mind, in the best possible way. I discovered communities (the old Highlander fandom clans) and forums and began to interact, awkwardly, with the people of this strange culture I'd discovered. (It would take years for that awkwardness to disappear completely.) I experienced for the first time the kindness of strangers that is so characteristic of fandom - a HL fan named Jean sent me copies of her Methos eps. (She died of cancer a few years ago. I hadn't kept in touch with her, because back then I was still figuring out how much distance and closeness were acceptable on the net. I regret that now.)
I fell in love with fandom, little by little. By 1999 I wasn't ashamed of calling myself a fan anymore; by 2000 I was proud.
And today? Well, I wouldn't be who I am without fandom. I probably wouldn't be writing. I would have far fewer friends. I would still obsess, because that's hardwired, but I'd do it in solitude, and feel ashamed about it. And I wouldn't be so *creative* about it.
On the other hand, I might be more creative in other areas of my life - I might still be painting - because the need for creativity, too, seems to be hardwired. However, I don't regret putting so much of my creative energy into fandom, because it's *nice* to have a creative outlet that isn't solitary. (And, ultimately, I think I am better at writing than I am at painting. Painting always felt like 'just a hobby'. Writing, on the other hand, on the better days feels like a vocation.)
I would be more 'respectable' without fandom, no doubt. My less respectable urges would be nicely sequestered away, invisible, as they are for most people.
My parents wouldn't find me so baffling. There wouldn't be so many essential parts of me that they can't understand - or rather, there would, but, as before I found fandom, they wouldn't be visible. There wouldn't be an invisible culture gap in my life. Only the gap between what I am and what I show people of me, the gap that exists in the lives of most 'normal' people.
I also probably wouldn't be on the internet, because fandom was the only reason I bought my first computer in 1999. *g*