Sharon says: I think that these two installments by Steve Miller explain themselves pretty well. Back in the day, Cyberplane 1 and 2 won a web-writing award, the name of which escapes me at this distance. We were nicer to each other on the internet, back then.

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This is the first issue of Cyberplane; it is a direct descendant of the old Paper Plane fanzine that I published when I lived at Apt 3A 119 Willow Bend Drive, Owings Mills, Md., 21117. In some ways I'm sorry that it's not appearing in the original format of a snailmailed, mimeographed personalzine....on the other hand I gave that device -- that mimeo machine -- away to some fans in deepest PA, where it may yet turn out crudsheets with every fourth crank of the handle.

So Cyberplane #1 comes to you via the web from Steve Miller, RR2, Box 4570, Winslow, ME 04901. LoCs (letters of comment) can be sent via email to kinzel@mint.net; additional issues will arrive webward from time to time, if anyone notices this issue. You CAN send stamps, though I'm not sure what the correct postage should be...This is a by whim production; there are no subscribers. Copyright 1995 by Steve Miller. The textured background is my own; I also make web pages....

....If none of that makes sense to you, perhaps I should mention that long ago and far away I was considered a science fiction fan. That was a technical term back when most science fiction was in books and magazines and fans were readers rather than watchers. Many, many fans were also writers, and some of the fans I dealt with have, like me, become "filthy pros" in one field of writing or another.

I have, alas, not given up many of my fannish ways. I still think of the year not in traditional holidays but in condays: April, BaltiCon and MiniCon weekend...also known as Easter. DisClave weekend, also known as Memorial Day to the uninitiated. And of course, WorldCon...frequently known as Labor Dayweek. Having been to something over 100 cons over the years my inclination to think in this fashion may perhaps be understood.

I also have kept many of my fannish odds and ends. My Kelly Freas caricature, my old x-rated issue of Holier Than Thou, many of my convention badges. And, of course, the illos sent to me by artists for the next issue of my fanzine. Original art!

Illo by Rotsler

I am not above the lure of the convention's song. I am, however, too cynical to enjoy sleeping on the floor in crash space; and too experienced to travel cross country on $6 a day with any degree of comfort. Once upon a time however....

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Con-Fession of a Con-Addict

In the summer of 1973 the fannish world had a near miss. Not only did the famous Khoutek comet fail to mesmerize and astonish billions, it being one of the real duds of the 20th century, right up there with the Edsel, the Lisa, the Apple III, and the Commordore IV, but also I failed to attend my first "real" sf convention.

I'm not sure who lucked out: I was at Clarion West and rather than go out to the con (in Vancouver perhaps?) I spent my weekend working on my writing. Somehow I thought that was much more to the purpose, having traveled by bus from Baltimore to Seattle to attend a writing workshop, and not to sit around talking trash with a bunch of mere fans. Sigh. I was as opinionated then as I am now and with far less experience to back it up... And so my first convention didn't happen months after I returned from Clarion.

You can probably blame Sue Miller, who was then Sue Nice, for my first appearance at convention. She read Analog every month ( I read Amazing, Fantastic, and IF or one of it's brethren) and it wasn't unusual for us to stare at the con listings and wonder if we should go to one of these things. When it was apparent that I was actually going to get a job in the field...well, it was obvious that we needed to go to a convention. And since we'd missed BaltiCon that year, the first con we got to was DisClave.

I will not bore you with the entire details of the event; I couldn't, having mixed them up with so many other events that took place at the Sheraton Park. What struck me from the start, and what helped lead to my addiction, was that I was among readers -- lots of readers! -- who knew enough about the same things I did to agree with me -- or argue with me -- from a position of information. These people might LOOK weird, but they didn't think it odd that one might happen to pick up a book at 7 PM and put down the second or third book in the series at 6 AM just before going to work...

In short order I became involved in BSFS, the Baltimore Science Fantasy Society, and I became a con fan. I'd drop everything to run to Pghlange, and I'd go to anything dealing with SF at the Sheraton Park hotel...an edifice that could probably have been bought for a permanent worldcon home for the amount of money that fans spent there.

My involvement in fandom, and in convention fandom in particular, got to the point that I might begin a conversation with someone at a room party in, say, Kentucky, continue it the next week in say, Michigan, and finish it at a party in, say Ohio, three weeks later. Not only might I have these kinds of conversations, I faunched after them. I needed them.

The energy of conventions got in my blood; I found myself able and (all too!) willing to give directions to hotels and restaurants in Anne Arbor and Washington DC and Columbus (that's in Ohio and is one of the least visited cities in the US). I also found myself recognizing stretches of interstate 400 miles away from home from the last time I'd been there -- say three weeks before.

At the risk of sounding a bit like one of Andy Offut's convention speeches, there I was, a young man from the backwoods of Owings Mills, Maryland and I was not only going places, but I was doing things in those places and I was even welcomefar from home. This was all a bit of a surprise to me. So much so that I needed hints about which cheese to eat (and Joe Haldeman may still consider me uncouth for never having had feta cheese in my life at the time we happened to be at the same party at a con in Ann Arbor); but I came from a poor but boring background where I'd led a very sheltered life away from anything but the blandest and most Baltimore of foods.

I also discovered the unexpected lure of all night partying. As my involvement grew from wide-eyed innocent to WorldCon bidding insider I became more and more involved in the faanish side of things and less in the sercon (serious constructive) side of things. Oh, I still wrote my fiction and my book reviews, but I was not as likely to attend the inevitable "Universe Building" panel as I was to hit all of the open and and as many of the closed parties as I could.

Along the way, I lost my way. Some of the all night parties led to waking up in someone else's room. Some ended up with a quiet breakfast with someone I'd kissed for the first time three hours before. Some ended up merely prelude to a virtually sleepless weekend followed by a 20 hour crash when I got home. Work and homelife suffered....

And so by the time of the Miami worldcon my marriage was on the rocks; even as my father (who was living in Miami on a houseboat with a 19 year-old girlfriend) was telling me to "hang on to that girl", the former Sue Nice was plainly not long to be Mrs. Steve Miller. The world of the con and the mundane world are not meant to be lived simultaneously for long periods of time...

For a short while I used conventions to avoid being alone. Then, rather suddenly, my writing was selling, I was reviewing books for the Baltimore Sun, and my new position as editor of a weekly community newspaper made conventions harder to get to.

This is a work in progress...thanks for your understanding-- Try Steve Miller If you haven't had enough you can try number 2 in the series

For those who were wondering about 2025's chapbook (remember that?) -- roughed out, including the back matter, but not the front matter, we're looking at 29,780 words/136 manuscript pages. Contents are: Author's Explanation, Neutral Ground, Outtake: The Healer Removed; Core Values; Text of the Heinlein Acceptance Speech.

This is still in Very Rough Shape, and it naturally takes second place to the novel, which! I'll begin reading tomorrow, because, yes, I DID get All The Stuff Done, and it is time -- nay! past time! -- to go back to work.

It's my intention to post the first two installments (the only two installments I can find, and, indeed, possibly the only two that were written) of Cyberplane, Steve Miller's electronic fanzine from 1996, to The Usual Places, possibly tonight, and Devote Myself To My Craft, tomorrow.

Which is to say, Friday on the East Coast of the USA will be a Planned Electron-Free Day at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

So! Everybody stay safe; I'll see you, for sure, on Saturday.

What went before ONE: I have achieved and sited roses. The tiny one is the baby from the front garden. The yellow one is True Kindness, which is a hybrid tea rose, said to be hardy, disease resistant and heat tolerant.

If this works out, I'll try an heirloom rose.

I have also registered for the watercolor class and conquered the rest of my errands, save the bank, which is a Phone Call.

What went before TWO: So! I have a couple more things to do to catch up with Real Life, but it looks like I'll be going back to work on Friday. Yeah, Friday; and I'll probably be working all weekend, too, because my boss is a witch, man.

Tomorrow will be a Hide from the Heat day, because 90F/32C, and sunny. Friday will be a little cooler and cloudy, and then Saturday it will be SIGnificantly cooler, with rain. So, it's not like I'll be missing a Great Weekend on anything.

I have taken the Executive Decision to put twinkle lights up in the living room. Those should arrive tomorrow, and will be something to do In-Between.

Rookie very responsibly made his annual vet appointment for July. I'm so proud of him. Trooper is calling for Happy Hour, but he still has a little while to wait.
. . . and that's the evening report.

Everybody stay safe; I'll see you tomorrow.

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Thursday. Sunny and already warm enough by my reckoning. The weatherbeans are calling for Warmer, and a thunderstorm or two.

I had hoped that the Corning trip would serve as a buffer against meltdowns, as I came home from a con without Steve, and, indeed, emotions have taken their time catching up. Unfortunately, this morning it all kind of hit like a dump truck. Firefly just brought me her orange chew-and-chase thing, which is of course a Great Comfort.

Today, I'll be doing normal quiet things -- hanging away the laundry, making a pot of rice, doing one's duty to the cats. I have two phone calls to make, and that will be my limit on Real World Business today.

There had been a call for me to post the text of my speech, so it can be compared to what I actually said. I'll try to get that done -- just a cut 'n paste.

The coon cats have put their plans for the day into motion. What're your plans?

Today's blog title brought to you by Billy Joel: "Allentown"

It just today occurred to me, as I was finishing with putting the remainder of the ten-days-away, err -- away, that I had failed to show y'all the reason for the trip, which was to receive this:

What went before One: Yanno? I'm finished for the day. No, I don't have a localer doctor. None of the doctors that are less than 50 miles away are taking new patients, which isn't surprising, really. I have my name on a "Hub" list, which I'm going to have to count as . . . a winnish sort of outcome.

Waiting for the plumber and will be going to Reny's and to Hannaford after that window closes.

What went before Two: I keep forgetting that if you want something today, you don't go to a store for it.

So the plumber came by and fixed the toilet situation. I gotta get me one of those air-harpoons. I went to Staples, because I wanted an SD card that cost less than the Earth today, then to Home Despot, which also did not have what I wanted. I will now be buying these items online.

I have newly washed clothes to put away and socks to dry, Coon Cat Happy Hour to serve up, and a glass of wine to find. Maybe two glasses of wine. Three? It could happen.

Everybody stay safe; I'll see you tomorrow.

Tuesday. Sunny and gonna be warm. Trash and recycling at the curb. Windows OPEN in my office.

Breakfast was rice crackers with cream cheese, strawberries on the side, putting the kettle on for my second cup of tea.

Laundry's almost done. I need to clear the dishwasher and change out at least one cat fountain, do my Greater Duty to the cats, and also do some banking/accounting. I should go to sewing circle this evening so I don't get out of the habit, and! going will force me to choose new project from those I have on-hoard. Oh, and I promised the guy at Houle's I'd stop by the showroom today.

Busy, busy.

One of the ... remarkable -- because I'm about to remark upon it -- aspects of coming home is how pleased I am to have My Own Stuff around me. And while I was Right to take a "studio" at Corning, and Corel dishes are perfectly reasonable, it was almost an active pleasure this morning to reach into the cabinet and pull out a proper purple-glazed dessert plate for my crackers, and the right little bowl for the strawberries.

So, that's what's going on around here -- I still have way too much Stuff to do, but I can kind of see a glimmer, looking forward, which might be what I like to call Normalcy.

Today's blog post title courtesy of Fleetwood Mac, "I don't wanna know"

Three cats in my office; one in the dining room, adjacent to my office, sitting in my chair. Of course.

Intro:  I'm not getting much done today, despite a Flurry of Telephonic Activity.  At the moment, I'm waiting for a plumber, which means I can't go out to the grocery until after 5, which is when the shop closes for the day.

Also, I should find some lunch.

But!  Glad to be back at the Usual Venue.  I'll be posting my Communications from the Road as can, but -- eyes the stack of Things and Tasks still to be done -- not soon.

What went before: So, I got some stuff done, but, yanno, not All The Stuff. Tomorrow will be ... intense, involving Many phone calls, some of them likely to be, err, tense, and banking, and so forth. Also, I should probably get some food into this house.

I'm a little worried. I went outside for a little while and pulled up some things that were Definitely Not Flowers -- oh! One of the plants that was sacrificed to the Great Landscaping Project last year was the rose bush Steve gave me when we moved into this house. Today -- I found a tiny rosebush (not in the same place), which I will be watching very closely.

But that's not why I'm worried. Left-hand neighbor, who lost his wife last spring -- there's a dumpster in the driveway, and I haven't seen his car. OTOH, he works weird hours, and I haven't seen his son's car, either. He could just be clearing stuff out, or getting ready to sell, or. . .

. . . and isn't a Funny Old Thing when you see a dumpster at somebody's house and the first thing you think is that someone's died . . .

So! Tools down for the day; I'll be finding a glass of wine RSN and in good time I'll be dishing out Coon Cat Happy Hour.

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Monday. Cool, high clouds. Tired writer is tired.

Breakfast was cottage cheese and whole wheat toast with pineapple juice, tea. I really do need to do something about getting food in the house. Later.

Called Charlie's Subaru. Service Manager "swamped," left particulars with the service shop coordinator. A call-back is promised "today."

Added to today's to-do list is playing with the toilet, always one of my favorite things to do, and the previous eighty-nine-million phone calls.

Since I suck at exercising "on my own" -- there's too much To Do! -- I am contemplating a return to Planet Fitness. If I'm going to be continuing with this Life Thing, then I need to be strong -- or as strong as I can be -- and if I need a Structure for doing that, well -- there it is.

Next on the list is to call the audiology department at Maine General and "self-refer," after that's done, the practice my PCP has joined will be open for business and I'll be able to call them -- so! much! happiness!

But for right now -- let's talk about "danger." I has been brought to my attention that I may have been foolish to have driven so far and for so many days alone and At My Age.

Now, when I was planning this trip, I did think about taking the train. Given that I wished to include Corning in my time away, this would have entailed driving to Albany, taking the train from the Rensselaer Station to New York City, changing trains, and then going on to Baltimore Penn Station, where somebody would have had to pick me up and take me to the con.

I rejected this option because the station in New York City is so vast and noisy that I simply freeze; I lose my sense of direction; I can't hear, and (by-product) I can't see; and Steve basically had to lead me by the hand to the slightly-less-noisy first class lounge, get me into a seat, and stack the luggage around me, until it was time to lead me by the hand to our train when it was time to board.

So -- Albany to Baltimore via Amtrak was right out.

I realized only today when the subject came up that I could have taken the Downeaster from Brunswick to Boston, taken a taxi across the city to South Station (always an adventure), and then taken the Acela directly to Baltimore, where someone would have had to pick me up. This would have ruled out the Corning leg of the trip. But! Maybe next time.

My point being that none of the options available to me (including, if you like, flying, which is off the table; my car doesn't randomly lose doors) was necessarily safe. Life, in fact, is not safe. What I'm looking for, I guess, is a reading on if I was irresponsible to undertake the Baltimore-New York SciFi Glassmaking Adventure.

I welcome thoughts and discussion on this topic.

Charlie's manager called back, BTW, and was suitably horrified and relieved. At his request, I emailed him the bill and notes from the Subaru dealership in Oneonta (if you're ever in need of Subaru service in Oneonta, I recommend Five Star Subaru without reservation. Tell them I sent you.), and I'll be reimbursed. My next oil change and tire rotation at Charlie's will be on the house. And -- the reason I called -- the shop will be informed and tasked with Doing Better.

So -- Monday marches on.