For writers, it’s sometimes hard to see why we are doing all of this. “What’s the point?” we ask, when we hit writer’s block or some other obstacle. It’s not always obvious why our stories matter. I want to tell you that your stories do matter. They matter a lot, to people you don’t even know.
The X-Files is my favorite show of all time. I have been in love with this series since fall 1996, when I started regularly watching the show during its fourth season. I still remember the first episode I saw (“2Shy” – it was a summer repeat), and I still remember the episode that hooked me (“Unruhe” – so creepy).
But The X-Files was more than just a hobby for me, as an 11 year old. It was an obsession. I became enthralled with stories, with characters, with mythology. The X-Files wasn’t just a show that I watched – it invaded every part of my life. I had every book ever published on this series. Every season recap, every nitpicker’s guide, every biography on the actors – I had them. When we got the internet in 1997, I used every available second of that dial-up to look up X-Files websites and message boards. I got mIRC for the sole purpose of finding X-Files groups, and I soaked up all the fan-fiction I could. To say that it was part of my life is an understatement.
I’m currently in the middle of a rewatch. I think this is the fifth or sixth time that I’ve watched the series the whole way through. I was trying to explain this to my husband, and I realized something: the X-Files wasn’t just my favorite TV show. It changed me.
I was in sixth grade, middle school, when I became obsessed with this show. My fandom solidly pushed me out of any “popular” group in school and pushed me to the weird periphery. I had various taglines written on my Trapper Keeper in White-Out. My fandom was obvious and excessive. And yes, this isolated me. It wasn’t cool to be obsessed with a sci-fi show when I was 11. I had maybe 3 friends (one of whom is still my best friend – thanks, Ashley, for dealing with me!).
But I didn’t back down. I stuck to my show. I stuck to these stories, even when I knew that people thought I was weird or when I was called the dreaded word: a “loser.” That decision – to be the weird kid – has been with me through my whole life. I was never part of a “clique.” I’ve always been more introverted. The choices I made in middle school carried through high school and then into my “real” life. I’m an adult now, obviously, but I think that the way we are in our early stages of life profoundly impacts how we approach life as an adult. I thought, as I spoke to my husband, what if there was no The X-Files? Would I have still been that weird kid? Maybe so, but maybe not as obviously. Maybe I could have passed for one of the cool kids. But what would that have done to my creativity? To my self-sufficiency? Would my love of story-telling be different? Would I still love science fiction as much?
My point is this: as creators of fiction, we have no idea what impact our stories will have. Your story could impact someone for the rest of his or her life. It could set someone on a trajectory that he or she had never anticipated. Sure, most fiction doesn’t impact us in this way. We absorb so many stories, and they slip out of our minds, without any effect. But you never know what story will stick in someone’s heart, or what story will change the way someone looks at the world. Value your work. Value your fiction. To someone out there, right now, it’s changing their course.