A special legacy.
So, many of you on my friends list knew Rebel Mom at the Jedi Council forums. And many of you don't. She passed away today from a sudden, unexpected stroke. Much, much too young.
I wasn't actually going to post anything, mostly because I wasn't close enough to her. Which might sound weird, but since two people from the circle of friends that knew her have already said something, repeating it just seemed needlessly redundant, in a way that would have been more about me than about her.
But then I thought of something in particular I actually wanted to say. As I've been reflecting on my acquaintance with Rebel Mom, I've also been remembering the good old days, eight years ago now, when a group of crazy kids who all wrote Star Wars fanfic started hanging out together in the same chat room every night, forming friendships that have endured ever since. We were a bunch of crazy kids and our den mother, of sorts, Rebel Mom.
Why are all of us from that time suddenly coming to a screeching halt tonight? I was reading through the comment thread that will undoubtedly become mind-bogglingly long over the next few days, and comments that Laura and Matt and Emily and Rachel have made in their various threads and sort of circling in on how special this woman was to all of us in one singular way: Encouragement.
As I've said, I wasn't close to Rebel Mom in a way that will leave a raw, terrible sort of pain in my life. I don't have that claim, but others certainly do. I pray for them almost as much as I do for her family. But I remember her so clearly because she read every single fanfic post I made at the JC and always left something nice for feedback. Even if it was one sentence it was always a setence of substance, not just "Great job! Post more!". And she did it for every post. For everybody's stories.
We were really, really young writers. And most of us wrote, to varying degrees, mind-numbingly cliché, tedious stories. Can you remember the last time you took the trouble to read through someone's very first fanfic and think of something nice to say for every post? I don't know about the rest of you, but most of the time I'm rolling my eyes and snerking behind my hand, if I even bother to give it the time of day at all.
My first fanfic was awful. Just awful. I think by the end I had maybe four regular readers. (Chris, you were one of them, and for that you have my undying, forevermore gratitude). Another was Rebel Mom. But I clearly remember the frustration of wanting someone, anyone to give a hoot about the brilliant masterpiece I was writing. As terrible as it was, that fic was the first long-term writing project I ever finished, and RM was there every step of the way.
Eight years later, a lot of us who were in high school or early college in those days have now all either written a full draft of an original novel, or have gotten a healthy start on one. Or, in Rachel's case, started making movies *GG* Would so many of us have gotten here if one special Star Wars lady hadn't taken the trouble to acknowledge that what we were trying to do, even when it was awkward and fumbling, was worthwhile? Somehow, I doubt it.
She read EVERYBODY'S STORY.
What a beautiful, beautiful gift.
Thank you, Rebel Mom, from the bottom of my heart. Let me demonstrate my gratitude from now on by snickering behind my hand less and pointing out something good instead.
I wasn't actually going to post anything, mostly because I wasn't close enough to her. Which might sound weird, but since two people from the circle of friends that knew her have already said something, repeating it just seemed needlessly redundant, in a way that would have been more about me than about her.
But then I thought of something in particular I actually wanted to say. As I've been reflecting on my acquaintance with Rebel Mom, I've also been remembering the good old days, eight years ago now, when a group of crazy kids who all wrote Star Wars fanfic started hanging out together in the same chat room every night, forming friendships that have endured ever since. We were a bunch of crazy kids and our den mother, of sorts, Rebel Mom.
Why are all of us from that time suddenly coming to a screeching halt tonight? I was reading through the comment thread that will undoubtedly become mind-bogglingly long over the next few days, and comments that Laura and Matt and Emily and Rachel have made in their various threads and sort of circling in on how special this woman was to all of us in one singular way: Encouragement.
As I've said, I wasn't close to Rebel Mom in a way that will leave a raw, terrible sort of pain in my life. I don't have that claim, but others certainly do. I pray for them almost as much as I do for her family. But I remember her so clearly because she read every single fanfic post I made at the JC and always left something nice for feedback. Even if it was one sentence it was always a setence of substance, not just "Great job! Post more!". And she did it for every post. For everybody's stories.
We were really, really young writers. And most of us wrote, to varying degrees, mind-numbingly cliché, tedious stories. Can you remember the last time you took the trouble to read through someone's very first fanfic and think of something nice to say for every post? I don't know about the rest of you, but most of the time I'm rolling my eyes and snerking behind my hand, if I even bother to give it the time of day at all.
My first fanfic was awful. Just awful. I think by the end I had maybe four regular readers. (Chris, you were one of them, and for that you have my undying, forevermore gratitude). Another was Rebel Mom. But I clearly remember the frustration of wanting someone, anyone to give a hoot about the brilliant masterpiece I was writing. As terrible as it was, that fic was the first long-term writing project I ever finished, and RM was there every step of the way.
Eight years later, a lot of us who were in high school or early college in those days have now all either written a full draft of an original novel, or have gotten a healthy start on one. Or, in Rachel's case, started making movies *GG* Would so many of us have gotten here if one special Star Wars lady hadn't taken the trouble to acknowledge that what we were trying to do, even when it was awkward and fumbling, was worthwhile? Somehow, I doubt it.
She read EVERYBODY'S STORY.
What a beautiful, beautiful gift.
Thank you, Rebel Mom, from the bottom of my heart. Let me demonstrate my gratitude from now on by snickering behind my hand less and pointing out something good instead.