edit Science Fiction Weekly from Maryland, in a part of the state called Montgomery County. That's a place which few of you had likely heard of up until about two weeks ago, when my part of the world started being discussed by the talking heads on the national news. As I'm sure you're aware by now, an elusive sniper has turned the Washington, D.C., area into his (or her) own deadly playground. He has struck 10 times as of this writing, taking the lives of eight seemingly random victims. On at least one occasion, the killer boasted of his work by leaving behind a tarot card with a scrawled message.
Like many of you, I've grown used to reading of such tragic events like these. Usually, because of their geographical distance from my home turf, I've been easily able to push them out of my mind. Because of their frequency, we can become inured to the sad events of television and newspapers, and often they seem like things of fiction. They happen over there to someone else.
But I've been unable to think of this particular series of incidents as just a news story of faraway events. Two of the victims were shot in the Aspen Hill neighborhood, just a few blocks from where my in-laws live. One of the earliest shootings was at the Mobil station where they usually gas up, while another was at a strip mall where my sister-in-law used to work. I've often been at those locations myself, and I imagine that over the years, I've probably walked across the very spots where the victims fell.
Ever since this siege began, I've been getting phone calls and e-mails from friends and family on a daily basis. The messages have a sameness to them. They want to know that my family is safe. They want to know how close we live to the areas where the shootings have taken place. And, most importantly, they want to warn us—whatever you do, don't go outside!
But I have gone outside. I've gone shopping, headed to the library, filled up the car with gas, picked up my son from school—in other words, conducted all the usual mundane tasks of life.
For life must go on.
Coping with anxiety through art
So why am I choosing to tell you this? And how does science fiction fit into this story? Well, first of all, if you've been reading my editorials here for the past two years (and in the various other magazines I've edited all the years before that), you'll know by now that I believe science fiction to be a part of just about everything. More than the real-world territory we share, science fiction is the country in which I truly live my life.
But to move from the general to the specific—the reason I bring up these events here is because in this anxious time in which I live, science fiction is where I go to stay sane.
Science fiction is the place where I go to remember that everything will work out. It's where I go to momentarily forget myself. It's where I go to be reminded of myself. It is many contradictory things. It is a refuge from the ills of the world, but at the same time a vitamin which strengthens me so that I can deal with those same ills.
There are those who claim that art of any kind—movies, books, music, television—is meaningless when life issues such as these intrude. "In the face of such madness," they say, "who can read? Who can listen to music?" Some people want to live with their eyes focused on 24-hour news channels, the constant chatter ratcheting up their anxiety level. Anything that takes the rest of us away from in-your-face reality is frivolous to them. But these are precisely the times we need art the most.
So during the past week, this is how I've taken my mind off the fears of the day: I've watched many of the new fall SF shows. I've worked my way through a stack of back issues of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. I've pulled some of my favorite novels down from the shelves and reread my favorite passages. And, of course, I've worked on future issues of Science Fiction Weekly, studying the next few months of what the field has to offer us. These things have helped siphon away the fears that could, if unblocked, cause paralysis.
Without the solace of science fiction, I'd just end up locking the doors and drawing the shades, so yet again, the various futures of science fiction have enabled to keep my eyes on my own future.
I hope that you're letting it do the same for you.
Scott Edelman started his trek to the editor-in-chief position at Science
Fiction Weekly back in 1974, when he began working as an assistant editor at
Marvel Comics. Between these two positions, this four-time Hugo Award nominee in
the category of Best Editor was the founding editor of the
award-winning magazine Science Fiction Age, in addition to editing
Sci-Fi Universe, Sci-Fi Flix and Satellite Orbit. Currently, he also edits SCI
FI, the official magazine of the SCI FI Channel. His science-fiction short stories can be found in the recent DAW anthologies Mars Probes and Once Upon a Galaxy.
