The pandemic has been hard for furry, because it shut down conventions. But I spent this last weekend at a furry con where everyone was masked, vaxxed, respectful of each others’ space, and bigger than they’d expected.
Furry is here to stay, and it keeps growing.
As a community, furry draws in younger folks easily. It’s fun and has no real barrier to entry. Nobody asks, “Have you read all of Tolkien?” Or quizzes you on Golden Age white male sci-fi authors.
If anything, they ask, “What kind of animals do you like?” Anyone can answer that.
Then once those younger folks are drawn into furry, they largely find a warm, welcoming place filled with artists of all types who are excited to help new people get started.
So, a lot of them stay, and many of them add their own art or writing. And furry keeps growing.
I get disheartened about writing sometimes. There are so many voices, and it’s easy to feel like yours is too small and insignificant. Like you’re screaming at the ocean, and the ocean is too busy arguing about today’s Discourse to notice you.
But then I think about furry…
Outside of furry, it feels like everyone is clamoring for a type of capitalistic success at fiction writing that, realistically, isn’t so different from fighting over lottery tickets.
But inside furry, we keep making the things we make because we love them. We need them.
So, I may not make enough money to support myself as a writer. But I have a lot of people who love the books I write, because there’s nothing else out there quite like them.
And most of the books I’m most excited about are the same way.
There isn’t a real conclusion here…
Just keep writing wonderful furry stories, and when you read one you love, tell people about it.
Furry is awesome, and furry fiction is the best.