She would write novels in the amount of time most of us would be able to maybe manage a haiku, and smut (typing VERY quickly with just two fingers) if you gave her Amaretto.
I first met her online in 1992, on FORKNI-L where she wrote amazing stories. I think we met in person at the first Dead of Winter FK con in Boston in 1994, and ever since then every few months I'd pick up the phone and two to four hours of conversation that wandered all over our lives, fandom, and television later we'd hang up and it would have been as if we'd never spent a minute apart.
I never got to actually see Susan as much as I wish I could have. Usually I could manage at least a few years in a row every few years as our convention-going fannish paths intersected. Whenever I was at MediaWest Con, first thing I'd do was head to her and Ann's room to hang out and help staple anything that needed stapling. One year in New Orleans, we attacked her with make-up and a fancy dress and used her as a life-size Barbie. She and Mary GT Webber and I drank really, really, REALLY good whiskey, and then we wandered off into the Quarter despite the hurricane warnings (this was I think 1995).
Since getting back into Who fandom in 2005, she let me kidnap her to Gallifrey One in Los Angeles every February. She'd take a week off work, happily and gleefully shuttle me and Lizzy and Rob around Los Angeles, take us to Disney where magically we never seemed to have to queue for anything longer than 15 minutes. I'd never been to Disneyland before. She bought me an Emergency Disney Hoodie so I didn't freeze to death--which came in particularly handy when A Certain Someone insisted of course I wouldn't get soaked on Splash Mountain.
(The part where I don't always recognise irony makes Lizzy laugh. It made Susan laugh too, but she'd always just pat me on the head like a terrier.)
She'd been living in LA for years, but never lost her NY roots. She truly believed that Fish Tacos are an Abomination, and their existence proved that there was Something Wrong With The Universe. She laughed and laughed when I played her The Brendan Hines' song "I Miss New York" and even drove me out to Hollywood to hear him perform live a few years back. She'd take me and friends out for post-con sushi, and trips to Disney or Warner Bros. or anyplace they'd like to go because she had a car and was local, and had a POS GPS called a Garvin that almost always took the most roundabout way anyplace. But it was always an adventure.
She introduced me to the concept of "Story Dice" (stock plots for action-adventure series that always show up eventually and are always entertaining, like 'handcuffed together', 'the suburban episode' and 'temporary amnesia', etc.). There was the year where she had three inches of bright magenta roots, from a bad experience touching up her hair (she wore her Laura Holt hat a LOT that week-end). She was as comfortable geeking out with Moffat about Sherlock Holmes as she was 1980s TV with fangirls. She adored meeting new people, and brought a giant bucket of Disney pins to trade with our friend Heather and Ed's daughter Haley just to make sure Haley had a great con.
She was an awesome con roommate. She bought popsicles for Lizzy when she woke in the middle of the night ill from food poisoning. She would stay up til all hours in the lobby, magically producing bottles of booze when needed. She loved television madly as a storytelling form, but she also loved film and pulps, and had made sure her niece was schooled before the age of 4 in the Universal monster movies (possibly to the dismay or delight of the rest of her family. I'm a bit fuzzy on that part).
She was there for the dinner where I believe Paul Cornell, Javier Grillo-Marxuach and (former Boy Editor) Mark Waid LOUDLY proclaimed their love for Giant Size Man-Thing to a crowded Champions, and was always checking on me to make sure I had eaten and was properly hydrated. She would show up at panels with coffee, and the odd banana or hard-boiled egg, just as I (or someone else) needed it to keep from keeling over. She had to bow out of Gally early this year due to feeling poorly. I felt terrible that I'd missed her, but kept thinking the phonecalls and visits would go on and everything would be fine. I got to give her a copy of the book, and promised to sign it for her the next time I saw her.
The last email I had from her she begged me to "Please remember to eat and hydrate", which I always found charming because it harkened back to the 20-something fangirl who stayed up all night drinking and talking and foregoing sleep I always remained in Susan's mind despite the fact that that mantle had passed on to other fangirls who shall (mostly) remain nameless. And I could never have hoped to have a better mentor than Susan. She didn't just teach me about fanzines and writing and cons. She taught me about the shape of stories and our appetites for them, the joy of friendship and the importance of being good to people. Not just because you never know who might be there for you when you need a hand up someday, but just for the sake of being a good person in a "thus we refute entropy" sort of way.
Susan passed away peacefully in her sleep today, a few days after her 49th birthday, after a brief battle with cancer. She was surrounded by people who loved her, and made sure she knew it. None of us were ready to say good-bye. We never are.
If there is a Callahan's Crosstime Saloon out there somewhere in the ether, there's a hell of a wake going on right about now. I'll say that much.