|Alias(es):||Laura Bowen, LR Bowen|
|Fandoms:||Star Trek: VOY|
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L.R. Bowen is a fanwriter.
Some of the first Voyager fanfic I ever read was by LR Bowen, which spoiled me something fierce. It's a high standard to live up to. Most writers just can't touch her for emotional content, and her lyrical, descriptive passages simply sing with passion. She's one of the few writers I'll actually drop everything and read right online. 
L.R. Bowen: from "What is Slash?" (1998)
An amusing tale of my first exposure to slash:
The year: 1977. My very first Star Trek convention, as a young teen. It was in the Civic Auditorium in San Francisco, and I went with my even younger sister. I had on my best approximation of a Trek costume--a pink velour shirt of my mother's, black Levi's, and a pair of vinyl boots I got from the thrift store. No, we didn't have a lot of money to spend on things like that. We got in the door, got our tickets and programs, and looked around wide-eyed, trying to decide what to do first. So much to choose from! Art show, panels, uncut original series shows, guest appearances...this con had the entire TOS cast with the exception of Shatner and Nimoy, plus Mark Lenard (R.I.P. November 1996), Arlene Martel, Robert Heinlein, Jacqueline Lichtenberg... I didn't care about them, because Bones was my main man! I was there for De Kelley. So here I stood, innocent and excited...and I felt a tickle on my leg. Faint, light--just a twinge, perhaps. I shifted my stance. There it was again. I looked down.
Here is a fellow, early twenties perhaps, mustached and trim, kneeling on the floor beside me and...getting acquainted with my $2.95 vinyl boots. They were brown and crinkly and had big block heels of the kind that are so much in style again. He liked them VERY much, obviously. And he had knelt down so quietly and stroked them so tenderly that I had barely noticed the touch.
My sister, twelve years old, and I stared at each other for a moment, having vaguely heard of such things, but certainly never having come into personal contact with them or their practitioners in public. Then we grabbed each other by the hand and bolted. Well, that was totally gross and weird, but he's gone now...let's look at our programs again, shall we? Oh, there's the art show...and the dealer's tables...and a wee, faint tickle on my leg.
Great Bird have mercy, he was at it again. And a real pro, sneaking up like that without a sound. I had the feeling he'd done this before. If I had been a few years older, I would have mashed his sneaky little fingers under my blocky vinyl heel. As it was, we bolted again and didn't see him after that. But you'll forgive me if my adrenaline was a little high, and my tolerance for out-of-the-way sexual attractions a little low.
Ah, the dealer's room. Zines? Oh, yes, stories written by fans. Huh, I bet they're pretty bad. I've never seen any, but I've written some pretty dreadful stuff myself and never shown it to anyone...I was curious. I picked up something from a rack...
Kirk and Spock doing WHAT!? GROSS!And that was it, for slash and for all fan fiction alike, until 1995...