DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Horizons, v. 6, issue 1, whole no. 20, September 1944

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Horizons, v. 6, issue 1, whole no. 20, September 1944

Page 9

             In Praise of inficiency

           Like unto many another fan, I have never been noted for careful ordering of my fannish affairs, careful filing of my effects, or systematic placing of thins in such places as they might conceivably be remembered as being in which. Now, however, things are different. I cannot say to have seen The Light, but can recommend this business of efficiency in handling of fan affairs, to such of you as may not already utilize it and have opportunity so to do.
             It all started one rainy Saturday afternoon when I was trying to fing room in my desk drawers--of which there are eight small ones--for something or other. After unsuccessful attempts, I came to the conclusion that (a) no space existed, anywhere, and (b) the thing I wanted to put away would be better off discarded, and would certainly be taking up space that would be better udes for more important, desirable to have at hand, things.
             That got me thinking. What was the use of having this nices desk, anyway, with the top so cluttered that ten minutes' rearrangement was necessary to find room to blot a signature, and the drawers full of impedimenta never touched? In the drawers, for instance, was a complete file of Spaceways and Horizons, from beginning to date, representing the only thing left me of thousands of hours of hard work, but not thouched oftener than once every four months. They the tremendous pile of carbon copies of my fanzine writings--they could be burned, being no longer useful. (They haven't been, to date.) Worst of all was one drawer which had served as catchall for the last five years, and most of the contents of which were hopelessly dyed by some stray hekto carbons of practically prehistoric vintage.
               Gritting determinedly the teeth, I plunged in. After about ten hours of labor over a period of several weeks, I'm now in a position to compare my affairs favorably with those of a Washington bureaucrat. One desk drawer contains unanswered correspondence and unread fanzines; another the answered mail and read magazines. A third holds stationey and scratch paper supplies, the fourth the multitudinous pencils, paper clips, gum bands, blotters, ink, gummed paper, rulers, and such stuff which must be instantly available at all times. Fan matters needed for reference or foreseeable use have another drawer--contents include a folder which holds notes for coming issues of Horizons, the last few issues, the completed part of the Searles Bibliography, any stencils that may be on hand, fan photos, and so forth; there will go such things as the Daugherty fan directory. One drawer serves to hold music matters, another stuff connected with my work, and the last one works admirably in the function that all eight did a month agoas catchall for clippings, odd magazines, and similar stuff.
         I even managed to clean out the little metal filing case, a birthday present years ago, that housed for years manuscripts for Spaceways. Those mss., the dummies for all 30 issues, subscription lists, and other related matters, are all bound up, awaiting either microfilming or transferral to The Foundation. So far, however, I haven't decided what new use is the destiny of the filing case.
         Net result: I find myself saving at least an hour's time a week, and a lot of bothersome steps around the house and desperate searching for stuff that ought to be where it isn't. If you've prided yourself on the disarray of your stuff, the way I long did, I recommend investigation of the possibilities of reordering these matters.
          My own next move will be toward my books, transferring from the cupboard where many of the best ones now are stacked to the bookcase those I read oftenest and want on visual display, and packing away juvenile volumesor those that have outlived their usefulness. In particular, I want to get my fantasy volumes separate from the others, though this can never be done in the ideal way; I refuse to break my 26 volumes of Mark Twain, for instance, just because of "The Mysterious Stranfer". Logically, an attack on the correspondence files should follow, then an ordering of prozines including a cataloging of what I need. 
           Over my fanzine collection, I can only weep bitterly. Hopeless, stark chaos.

Saving...

In Praise of inficiency Like unto many another fan, I have never been noted for careful ordering of my fannish affairs, careful filing of my effects, or systematic placing of thins in such places as they might conceivably be remembered as being in which. Now, however, things are different. I cannot say to have seen The Light, but can recommend this business of efficiency in handling of fan affairs, to such of you as may not already utilize it and have opportunity so to do. It all started one rainy Saturday afternoon when I was trying to fing room in my desk drawers--of which there are eight small ones--for something or other. After unsuccessful attempts, I came to the conclusion that (a) no space existed, anywhere, and (b) the thing I wanted to put away would be better off discarded, and would certainly be taking up space that would be better udes for more important, desirable to have at hand, things. That got me thinking. What was the use of having this nices desk, anyway, with the top so cluttered that ten minutes' rearrangement was necessary to find room to blot a signature, and the drawers full of impedimenta never touched? In the drawers, for instance, was a complete file of Spaceways and Horizons, from beginning to date, representing the only thing left me of thousands of hours of hard work, but not thouched oftener than once every four months. They the tremendous pile of carbon copies of my fanzine writings--they could be burned, being no longer useful. (They haven't been, to date.) Worst of all was one drawer which had served as catchall for the last five years, and most of the contents of which were hopelessly dyed by some stray hekto carbons of practically prehistoric vintage. Gritting determinedly the teeth, I plunged in. After about ten hours of labor over a period of several weeks, I'm now in a position to compare my affairs favorably with those of a Washington bureaucrat. One desk drawer contains unanswered correspondence and unread fanzines; another the answered mail and read magazines. A third holds stationey and scratch paper supplies, the fourth the multitudinous pencils, paper clips, gum bands, blotters, ink, gummed paper, rulers, and such stuff which must be instantly available at all times. Fan matters needed for reference or foreseeable use have another drawer--contents include a folder which holds notes for coming issues of Horizons, the last few issues, the completed part of the Searles Bibliography, any stencils that may be on hand, fan photos, and so forth; there will go such things as the Daugherty fan directory. One drawer serves to hold music matters, another stuff connected with my work, and the last one works admirably in the function that all eight did a month agoas catchall for clippings, odd magazines, and similar stuff. I even managed to clean out the little metal filing case, a birthday present years ago, that housed for years manuscripts for Spaceways. Those mss., the dummies for all 30 issues, subscription lists, and other related matters, are all bound up, awaiting either microfilming or transferral to The Foundation. So far, however, I haven't decided what new use is the destiny of the filing case. Net result: I find myself saving at least an hour's time a week, and a lot of bothersome steps around the house and desperate searching for stuff that ought to be where it isn't. If you've prided yourself on the disarray of your stuff, the way I long did, I recommend investigation of the possibilities of reordering these matters. My own next move will be toward my books, transferring from the cupboard where many of the best ones now are stacked to the bookcase those I read oftenest and want on visual display, and packing away juvenile volumesor those that have outlived their usefulness. In particular, I want to get my fantasy volumes separate from the others, though this can never be done in the ideal way; I refuse to break my 26 volumes of Mark Twain, for instance, just because of "The Mysterious Stranfer". Logically, an attack on the correspondence files should follow, then an ordering of prozines including a cataloging of what I need. Over my fanzine collection, I can only weep bitterly. Hopeless, stark chaos.