Starting Conversations Considered Harmful

     (Perhaps not quite as harmful as the GOTO statement – apologies, Professor Dijkstra – but then, not everyone is willing to abandon that, either.)

     Not long ago, I learned of a group styled the Conservative-Libertarian Fiction Alliance:

     Welcome to the Official Website of the Conservative-Libertarian Fiction Alliance (the CLFA for short). The CLFA is the destination for lovers of fiction and freedom. Visit for the latest news of fiction for consumers ranging from religious conservatives to atheist libertarians and everyone in between – in short, everyone who wants less government control and less SJW authoritarianism, and who loves a good story!

     It sounded like a good idea; after all, “Politics is downstream from culture.” [Breitbart 1:1] –The group boasts a substantial membership, including a couple of well-known writers, and it seemed a good place to look for resources and do the occasional, gentle bit of self-promotion. So after a brief inner struggle, I fought down my anti-joiner inclinations and even though it required me to join Facebook, which I cordially detest, I signed on.

     There’s some substance there, though less than I’d hoped. I did find a cover artist there for Love In The Time Of Cinema, so it hasn’t been a complete waste of time. Mostly it’s just one more Facebook group of persons who find one another generally more agreeable than not swapping recommendations, repartee, and recipes.

     (Yes, recipes. As far as I can make out from my admittedly limited experience, sooner or later every Facebook group will feature recipes for this, that, or the other thing. I’m hoping one of the members will suggest a tasty alternative to the pina colada for my summer indulgence. I've seen nothing so far, but the summer is young.)

     However, it seems that during my brief tenure there, I’ve done something a few other CLFA members dislike: I’ve started a couple of conversations of which not everyone approves. One was on worn-out motifs in urban fantasy; the other was on overtired elements in science fiction. In both cases, a substantial fraction of the responses was “Why are we talking about this?” Another, smaller group held that “We shouldn’t be talking about this.”

     One of the reasons I was reluctant to join Facebook, even though it’s the only effective way to participate in CLFA, is the legendary contentiousness of its members. I have no particular beef with people who like to argue, but there are certain categories of argument that puzzle me. One of them is the sort that runs “Why are we talking about this?” We, whoever that might be, find it interesting enough to add comments. If it bores you, why not simply decline to participate? Surely no one is forcing you to do so.

     Then there are the volunteer censors: “We shouldn’t be talking about this.” Why not? What’s offensive about the subject? That’s a stroke I’d have expected from the Left, not the Right. Anyway, those who are offended by a particular topic have the same option as those who are bored by it.

     Finally, one member posted the same response to each of the two threads I started: “I’ve sold a whole lot of books about this.” Okay, that’s nice, and we’re all happy for you; I am, anyway. But does that mean that others with different preferences ought to keep them to themselves? No one’s trying to invalidate your books; success, as they say, is its own justification.

     I’m no stranger to controversy or contention – Liberty’s Torch should be ample proof of that – but I’m baffled that a site explicitly devoted to “freedom-friendly fiction” should have members more interested in dampening or shutting down the discussion of a subject than in pursuing one that piques their interest.

     I posted a version of this at CLFA’s Facebook site. This will make the maximum degree of irony possible: Someone will suggest that I shouldn’t have done so, and we’ll be off to the races once again.

     UPDATE: The reactions to the above have caused me to delete my Facebook account -- for the third (and probably the last) time. I suppose I should have known better.