Earliest Fanfic of Mine?

[lydamorehouse]

 
Picture: a close-up of the close of a letter, with cursive "signed" followed by a stamp of a five-pointed red flower, the Scarlet Pimpernel.

I was looking for juvenilia to read at Minicon and I came across a series of letters (and notes passed in Algebra class, written with the code "to Mme de Valois, with haste!") between me and my friend Mary Anderson Dupont, in which I write to her as none-other-than the Scarlet Pimpernel. We had read the novel in class, watched the movie, and become instant fan grrls. My mother even had a stamp designed from my art, so that I could officially stamp all of this missive fan fic. I remember how heartbroken I was when the purse I'd been carrying it in was lost.  

Some of these letters are legit in French.

Mary and I were serious, serious nerds. 

Unfortunately, I'm not sure I have enough of my replies to piece together anything I could read.  Most of what I have, naturally, are my partner-in-crime's letters to *me* and I have no idea how I replied, except in a few cases where Mary gave me back some of the letters some time after college as a memento to our friendship. But, there are very few and far between. I would feel weird reading only her stuff, so I may have to set this particular option aside, unless I stumble across a cache of my own replies somewhere. (I have been looking, because I've unearthed a LOT of other things in the meantime.) 

Like, I want to know how I dealt with this:

September 23, 1793

Monsieur Pimpernel,

I have very disturbing news to transfer, but please do not be overly alarmed.

I was walking with 'Yves' in the old market place, when a short, ugly man with stumpy little legs accosted me. He called me a filthy whore and traitor. When he was almost through with tirade, he screamed names at me, "Mary Valden, ha! Jeanne Fayaille, ha! Louise-Anne Montetine, a joke! You are only a poor milkmaid's daughter and do not deny it, spy for the Pimpernel. Well, you tell him this: Phillipe Chauvelin lives and will hunt him down like a dog! Au revior, Madamoiselle de Valois!"

Who are these women he mentioned? I am sure I have never heard of them, but Mms. de. Valois was your greatest woman-spy, was she not? I am curious, M. Pimpernel. Please write quickly, 

Lienne Duprey

She's curious, is she? SO AM I!

I wonder how I replied to this! Are these spies of mine also my lovers? Am I cheating on this poor woman??? How did I reassure her and keep her in my league? Knowing me, I probably defused and redirected by telling Mme. Duprey that I was far too busy running from this Philippe character to answer such trivial questions. 

It's hard to believe we were fifteen, at most. 

That is, until I hit some of my other fan fic, holy crap. I was very prolific. I have a ton of Katherine Kurtz Deryni Chronicles fic, some Anne McCaffery Dragonriders of Pern stuff, and LotR, from before the movies existed.Oh, and Thieves' World. 

Here's a sample of that:

The night held a hint of foreboding as it passed over Sanctuary, for a Hellhound walked the streets of the Maze. Only two of the palace guard, known more commonly as hellhounds, dare walk the Maze: Tempus and Zalabar.

It was the tall blond, Tempus, who walked through now....

And the repetition repeats itself repetitively. 

I was talking about this to an online friend earlier today and I think I am grateful that the Internet didn't exist when I was twelve, because, if it had, it would mean that all of this stuff would be archived somewhere. I mean, there are a lot of things that make me wish the internet HAD been around when I was a kid. Probably, I'd have come out a LOT sooner. Probably, I would have fallen into fandom HARD (that one could be another double-edged sword, because I might never have wanted to try original fiction, if I'd had a community who appreciated these early attempts.)

This has been an interesting trip down memory lane, though.

I also think that I should strive to be more famous, generally. I have a metric ton of correspondence dating back to the early 80s (and earlier) between myself and my various friends--including a long-distance boyfriend in Georgia that I picked-up after my trip to France in high school, and I feel like at some moment in the future, the history that these letters represent might actually be of interest to someone. As it is, they fill boxes in my basement. Some future grandchildren might Marie Kondo them into oblivion, and that feels like a loss? As someone who has worked in history, I can tell you this kind of average person's correspondence can be the most interesting stuff. Thing is, if I were more famous, generally, some archives, somewhere, might be convinced to house it/preserve it.

Alas, I'll get on the fame thing.

In the meantime, if you were thinking about coming to Minicon, you totally should, because I'm not the only author doing this! We'd wanted it to be held in a bar, since I have a feeling strong drinks might make the experience easier on the audience (and ourselves!) but I don't think Minicon managed that. It should still be a hoot, however.