SCIENCE FICTION SAVED MY LIFE
Possessing intelligence and growing up in Brooklyn are two almost contradictory happenstances. Not to say that the local population was below average, but Brooklynites tend to see things from a rather limited perspective. Not all of them, but certainly enough to make the statement. While I was out collecting insects and playing games with my imagination, other boys my age were playing punch ball.
Needless to say, I was picked on. The other children insulted me with impunity. I was involved in many fights. Actually, I wasn't that much of a fighter. I just got beat up a lot.
In school, when they were choosing sides in gym class, I was always the last boy picked to be on a team. Sometimes girls were chosen, before someone would condescend to point to me. I spent much of my childhood feeling inadequate.
I consider myself an expert on alienation. Though I always had at least one close friend, I often found myself alone in my room, wondering why nobody liked me. Some of my childhood pictures clearly illustrate my brooding nature, even as early as third grade. It was not an easy life.
As I grew older, I did a lot of experimenting. I learned the bluff. I developed an alternate persona to get me through the hard times. He was tougher than me and knew how to fight, though it didn't really work until my family moved and I started to attend a school where none of the kids knew me. I acted crazy so that people wouldn't bother me. I acted tough. I got into trouble.
It was around this time that I started reading science fiction. Alone in my room, I could be anyone... do anything. I could travel across the galaxy with Captain Kirk or walk through the shadows with Corwin to Roger Zelazny's Amber. I could explore new worlds without ever leaving my house. I still have the Star Trek scrapbook that I started in 1976 at the age of fourteen. Even back then I wrote, and dreamt of a time when people would read my work and be transported.
Roger Zelazny was my best friend, when I had no one else. So was Jack Chalker, Philip Jose Farmer, Larry Niven, Isaac Asimov, Jerry Pournelle and the rest of them. Starting in junior high school, I discovered fantasy as well. Then I had new friends; JRR Tolkien, Leigh Bracket, John Varley, Fred Saberhagen and many more. These were the people who were always there for me. The ones that never laughed at me and never judged me.
Those were difficult times. With the exception of my friend Paul, who for reasons of his own was often inaccessible, I had nobody. There were times when I considered suicide in an attempt to strike out at the world. At such times, I'd immerse myself in literature, sometimes reading as many as five books a week. My author friends helped me through some of the hardest years of my life.
My parents, two practical middle class people, spoke of things like college and careers, when all I wanted to do was write. My father had often explained to me the fate of those who don't attend college. He told me that I'd have to work too many hours for not enough money. I didn't believe him. My father passed away when I was nineteen. Shortly after, I submitted a story to Asimov's SF. Until last year, that was my only rejection slip. I recently found the story and read it. I was mortified. It was really bad. I never attended college.
The funny thing is, my father was as big a science fiction fan as I. He should have understood my dream. He should have encouraged it. I know that he was only looking out for my best interest, but his long talks about financial security had turned me from the path I desired most.
For a time, my dreams of writing were lost in a world of practicality. After all, a man has to support himself. I started as a salesman in a New York based chain of electronic stores and worked my way into middle management. I did well for myself, until the company began a downward spiral from which it never recovered. After a brief stop at another well-known chain, I ended up working in a local computer store, which I now manage.
I've now worked in retail for fifteen years and during that time I've found that I can make a living, but I also now know that I can never consider it a career. Retail is and will always be just a job.
I never stopped writing. Notebooks full of stories that would never be read and even a novel that I wrote in high school, filled the shelves of my den (and later a box in my closet), but the dream was dead. Or so I thought.
In 1995, on June 14th, Roger Zelazny passed away. It was months before I heard the news and then another before I fully understood it. There would never be another Zelazny book. Never again would I be transported to Amber. I had lost my best friend, without ever having written him a letter. For several months, I sank into a deep depression.
It was at this point that I returned to writing. I rewrote the novel from high school and wrote a sequel for it. I even started the third book of the trilogy. I had visions of stardom. I still never submitted a piece of work, but at least I was back on track.
They say good things comes in threes. And it was three deaths that placed me where I am today. The death of my father, of my favorite author and finally just this year, the death of Dr. Josh Miller, who might have destroyed my life, had he survived.
Josh was a friend of mine. He was a brilliant physicist who had invented a new algorithm for voice recognition, many times faster than anything that existed at the time. He patented it and started a company called Productivity Inc. He wanted to hire me. Strangely enough, he was also a science fiction fan.
Josh was, in my deranged mind, my ticket out of retail. It didn't matter that I would have eventually been just as unhappy in my new circumstance. In my mind, Josh Miller was my fairy godfather.
Then, just when it looked as if I would finally leave retail behind, my benefactor developed a brain tumor. He passed away in June of 1998. Once again, I didn't find out until months later.
When the Productivity Inc. deal fell through, I could stand it no longer. It almost seemed as if everyone that could have made a difference in my life was taken from me at the most crucial moment imaginable. Yet each of these deaths further propelled me along the path which I now trod.
With the death of my father, I had lost my freedom. I had no real choice but to work. In spite of myself, I learned responsibility. After the death of Zelazny, I found myself once again writing. Someone had to replace the Master, why shouldn't it be me? And after Josh Miller disappeared from my life, I started to submit. It doesn't matter how many people you bury in one place, grass will still grow on their graves. Somehow, life has a way of coming through.
I am now a published author. I have sold articles, short stories, an anthology and even a poem. I am currently rewriting the novel that I started in high school. Perhaps, if I work hard enough, if I push myself to the limit, I might finally make it out of retail and begin living the dream that I'd had as a teenager.
When I was younger, science fiction saved my life. Now perhaps it will save my life again.
Webpage & Graphics by Samandi Adams
Copyright (c) 2003-2004 ~ All Rights Reserved
SCIENCE FICTION SAVED MY LIFE
Possessing intelligence and growing up in Brooklyn are two almost contradictory happenstances. Not to say that the local population was below average, but Brooklynites tend to see things from a rather limited perspective. Not all of them, but certainly enough to make the statement. While I was out collecting insects and playing games with my imagination, other boys my age were playing punch ball.
Needless to say, I was picked on. The other children insulted me with impunity. I was involved in many fights. Actually, I wasn't that much of a fighter. I just got beat up a lot.
In school, when they were choosing sides in gym class, I was always the last boy picked to be on a team. Sometimes girls were chosen, before someone would condescend to point to me. I spent much of my childhood feeling inadequate.
I consider myself an expert on alienation. Though I always had at least one close friend, I often found myself alone in my room, wondering why nobody liked me. Some of my childhood pictures clearly illustrate my brooding nature, even as early as third grade. It was not an easy life.
As I grew older, I did a lot of experimenting. I learned the bluff. I developed an alternate persona to get me through the hard times. He was tougher than me and knew how to fight, though it didn't really work until my family moved and I started to attend a school where none of the kids knew me. I acted crazy so that people wouldn't bother me. I acted tough. I got into trouble.
It was around this time that I started reading science fiction. Alone in my room, I could be anyone... do anything. I could travel across the galaxy with Captain Kirk or walk through the shadows with Corwin to Roger Zelazny's Amber. I could explore new worlds without ever leaving my house. I still have the Star Trek scrapbook that I started in 1976 at the age of fourteen. Even back then I wrote, and dreamt of a time when people would read my work and be transported.
Roger Zelazny was my best friend, when I had no one else. So was Jack Chalker, Philip Jose Farmer, Larry Niven, Isaac Asimov, Jerry Pournelle and the rest of them. Starting in junior high school, I discovered fantasy as well. Then I had new friends; JRR Tolkien, Leigh Bracket, John Varley, Fred Saberhagen and many more. These were the people who were always there for me. The ones that never laughed at me and never judged me.
Those were difficult times. With the exception of my friend Paul, who for reasons of his own was often inaccessible, I had nobody. There were times when I considered suicide in an attempt to strike out at the world. At such times, I'd immerse myself in literature, sometimes reading as many as five books a week. My author friends helped me through some of the hardest years of my life.
My parents, two practical middle class people, spoke of things like college and careers, when all I wanted to do was write. My father had often explained to me the fate of those who don't attend college. He told me that I'd have to work too many hours for not enough money. I didn't believe him. My father passed away when I was nineteen. Shortly after, I submitted a story to Asimov's SF. Until last year, that was my only rejection slip. I recently found the story and read it. I was mortified. It was really bad. I never attended college.
The funny thing is, my father was as big a science fiction fan as I. He should have understood my dream. He should have encouraged it. I know that he was only looking out for my best interest, but his long talks about financial security had turned me from the path I desired most.
For a time, my dreams of writing were lost in a world of practicality. After all, a man has to support himself. I started as a salesman in a New York based chain of electronic stores and worked my way into middle management. I did well for myself, until the company began a downward spiral from which it never recovered. After a brief stop at another well-known chain, I ended up working in a local computer store, which I now manage.
I've now worked in retail for fifteen years and during that time I've found that I can make a living, but I also now know that I can never consider it a career. Retail is and will always be just a job.
I never stopped writing. Notebooks full of stories that would never be read and even a novel that I wrote in high school, filled the shelves of my den (and later a box in my closet), but the dream was dead. Or so I thought.
In 1995, on June 14th, Roger Zelazny passed away. It was months before I heard the news and then another before I fully understood it. There would never be another Zelazny book. Never again would I be transported to Amber. I had lost my best friend, without ever having written him a letter. For several months, I sank into a deep depression.
It was at this point that I returned to writing. I rewrote the novel from high school and wrote a sequel for it. I even started the third book of the trilogy. I had visions of stardom. I still never submitted a piece of work, but at least I was back on track.
They say good things comes in threes. And it was three deaths that placed me where I am today. The death of my father, of my favorite author and finally just this year, the death of Dr. Josh Miller, who might have destroyed my life, had he survived.
Josh was a friend of mine. He was a brilliant physicist who had invented a new algorithm for voice recognition, many times faster than anything that existed at the time. He patented it and started a company called Productivity Inc. He wanted to hire me. Strangely enough, he was also a science fiction fan.
Josh was, in my deranged mind, my ticket out of retail. It didn't matter that I would have eventually been just as unhappy in my new circumstance. In my mind, Josh Miller was my fairy godfather.
Then, just when it looked as if I would finally leave retail behind, my benefactor developed a brain tumor. He passed away in June of 1998. Once again, I didn't find out until months later.
When the Productivity Inc. deal fell through, I could stand it no longer. It almost seemed as if everyone that could have made a difference in my life was taken from me at the most crucial moment imaginable. Yet each of these deaths further propelled me along the path which I now trod.
With the death of my father, I had lost my freedom. I had no real choice but to work. In spite of myself, I learned responsibility. After the death of Zelazny, I found myself once again writing. Someone had to replace the Master, why shouldn't it be me? And after Josh Miller disappeared from my life, I started to submit. It doesn't matter how many people you bury in one place, grass will still grow on their graves. Somehow, life has a way of coming through.
I am now a published author. I have sold articles, short stories, an anthology and even a poem. I am currently rewriting the novel that I started in high school. Perhaps, if I work hard enough, if I push myself to the limit, I might finally make it out of retail and begin living the dream that I'd had as a teenager.
When I was younger, science fiction saved my life. Now perhaps it will save my life again.
Webpage & Graphics by Samandi Adams
Copyright (c) 2003-2004 ~ All Rights Reserved