Marion Zimmer Bradley was one of a kind. She and I met on Hugo Awards night in KC, my very first convention. I was so mundane I’d brought Sunday best and high heels for my only attire, especially since I’d heard the award banquet was going to be tux and tails. I believed it. Of course—in reality, this event is teeshirts and flipflops for most of the audience. But Robert Heinlein was GOH that year and he suggested tux and tails for the nominees…I’d gotten only part of the story. Anyway, I thought I was underdressed, so instead of going to the banquet, I sat it out at the counter in the hotel coffee shop (if I’d been in the lobby I’d have seen immediately that I was overdressed.) But Marion, whom I’d met for the first time that afternoon, saw me sitting by myself, asked if she could join me, and no, she felt underdressed too. 🙂 So that was how we really met. We spent the event sitting and talking over coffee and dessert, and having a very nice time.

I’d read Marion’s stuff for years. She could get pretty political, and she had her notions, but in the midst of it all, she told one heckuva good yarn. She deserved a Hugo, and it was a question (literally) why she didn’t get one for Heritage of Hastur (since that event, the votes are always preserved for a recount). I don’t remember what won that year, but everybody remembers Heritage.

She was a passionate person: put herself where her theories were; took risks—not all of which panned out. But she believed in what she did. She was a fighter. She wasn’t always right, but you were left with no doubt as to what she thought was right.

And most of all she told stories about passionate people. I respected her as a person, and as a writer. It’s getting harder to find her books. But try one. You may find your library needs them.