A dubious honour
Well, and so by circuitous means, someone has contacted me to ask for my permission to include my very first works of fan fiction -- and, incidentally, the very first things I wrote as an adult -- in some kind of massive repository of sci-fi fanfic something something at Texas A&M.
It's not about me specifically, mind you; I don't mean to give the impression that I was somehow singled out among the thousands and thousands of people who've shared their work with the world. It's about a zine in which these stories appeared, called... The SEX Files. The publisher has already given permission to use the whole thing, but this kindhearted soul wanted to ask the contributors anyway, just in case.
Obviously I agreed, because basically the most hilarious thing that's ever happened to me as a writer* is someone asking to immortalize the worst stuff I've ever written, especially considering it's probably the only stuff I've ever written that will live on after I die.
That's just. I mean. Try walking down the street feeling like a badass mofo when you know that shit is going on.
I picture some rando findin Th SEX iles 40 years from now and going "What the fuck?" and then fleeing the library on his hovercraft.
Anyway I told my mom about it tonight, all, hey mom, someone wants to include my earliest, cruddiest works of fan fiction in a big repository of fan works at Texas A&M. And she was like, OH HONEY and wouldn't listen to me about how they're maybe OKAY compared to SOME stuff but really not very good at all, and isn't it hilarious that THIS is my big contribution to the world of letters, blah blah blah.
Finally, I said it.
MOM. They were published in a zine calle Th SEX iles.
I could've grown a beard in the ensuing silence. Probably she won't be bragging about this to my Auntie Beryl.
* The second-most hilarious thing was the time I learned that some enterprising soul was offering to burn peoples' stories -- mine among them -- onto a CD for you at a cost of 5p per story. These same goddamn stories. Oh, this world.
It's not about me specifically, mind you; I don't mean to give the impression that I was somehow singled out among the thousands and thousands of people who've shared their work with the world. It's about a zine in which these stories appeared, called... The SEX Files. The publisher has already given permission to use the whole thing, but this kindhearted soul wanted to ask the contributors anyway, just in case.
Obviously I agreed, because basically the most hilarious thing that's ever happened to me as a writer* is someone asking to immortalize the worst stuff I've ever written, especially considering it's probably the only stuff I've ever written that will live on after I die.
That's just. I mean. Try walking down the street feeling like a badass mofo when you know that shit is going on.
I picture some rando findin Th SEX iles 40 years from now and going "What the fuck?" and then fleeing the library on his hovercraft.
Anyway I told my mom about it tonight, all, hey mom, someone wants to include my earliest, cruddiest works of fan fiction in a big repository of fan works at Texas A&M. And she was like, OH HONEY and wouldn't listen to me about how they're maybe OKAY compared to SOME stuff but really not very good at all, and isn't it hilarious that THIS is my big contribution to the world of letters, blah blah blah.
Finally, I said it.
MOM. They were published in a zine calle Th SEX iles.
I could've grown a beard in the ensuing silence. Probably she won't be bragging about this to my Auntie Beryl.
* The second-most hilarious thing was the time I learned that some enterprising soul was offering to burn peoples' stories -- mine among them -- onto a CD for you at a cost of 5p per story. These same goddamn stories. Oh, this world.