Octavia Butler died on Saturday. I found out maybe an hour ago.
I'm looking for words to describe how this makes me feel but I keep coming up short. Better writers that me will have to deal with that.
Here's what I will say. Like a lot of black science fiction fans I came across her work at a time when I was growing increasingly frustrated at the lack of people who looked like me in a medium I enjoyed so much. As such she wasn't just a great writer to me. She, and writers like her are symbols of the fact that the subtle limitations that the world tries to place on who I can be and what I can do with my life are illusions. For that I will forever be grateful.
Rest In Peace Miss Butler. You will be missed