Читать книгу The Chimera and the Shadowfox Griefer and Other Curious People - A. R. Morlan - Страница 6

FOREWORD

I.

Call me a ghost.

Oh, not that I’m trying to channel my inner Melville, or just plain trying to be artsy-smarty. I’m more or less alive in the traditional sense, but in the current state of what is called “living,” I’m a complete ghost...no Facebook page, no e-mail, no Twitter account, no website, virtually nothing which, in today’s media-driven society, signifies that one exists in any meaningful way. A few months ago, my publisher, editor, and friend Rob Reginald was speaking to me on the phone (land-line; I don’t have a cell), and he mentioned that I really needed to generate some sort of on-line presence, since I was virtually a “ghost” in the publishing world.

Now, I’ve been a so-called “published” (as opposed to the newer forms of self-publishing, You-Tube exposure, et al.) writer since 1983. Between 1985 and 2007, I had at least one new piece of fiction published annually somewhere in hard copy in either the US or elsewhere in the world. I was also submitting fiction and even some nonfiction with some regularity to whatever publications were still accepting hard-copy submissions without an electronic back-up. But...things changed. And I, being both learning disabled and financially unable to either use or afford a computer/internet access, eventually had to stop submitting and writing fiction.

The massive changes in publishing were a lose/lose situation for me. But before that call from my publisher, I did have the comforting notion to fall back on that at least my fiction was being reprinted and being made available for purchase, so even if I wasn’t able to pursue my craft anymore, people could still find my work if they wanted to. But after that conversation, I realized that since I’m not an on-line presence, I’m no longer anything. Not a writer, not a person, not...there.

A ghost, if you will.

Only, a ghost is thought to be pure spirit, and my spirit (my inner spark, my essence, my lifeforce, if you will) left me around the time that hard-copy subs and snail-mail become obsolete. So I don’t know what this new state of affairs has made me, other than what the current generation of computer/cell phone/whatnot users unlovingly call a dinosaur.

But even the original dinosaurs had a purpose within their ancient world. Me? I’m trapped in the tarpit of my own disabilities, unable to hoist myself out of the downward sucking quagmire with my little arthritic fingers and screwed-up dyslexic brain. It’s not anyone’s fault (no way to blame bad genes), nor is it the fault of those who are better suited for this new electronic-driven world. If a person has the skill and the smarts to make it in this new writing environment, I say more power to them. A lot of people have been able to self-publish their way to riches, and that is a testament to both their talent and their drive. I say, Go for it, folks. You deserve the rewards of your efforts.

I’d even clap for you, but ghosts don’t have any hands.

II.

As you can see from the Acknowledgments page, only one of the novelettes here has been published before (albeit in a slightly shorter form), while the other three are new. Or, as writers call them, trunk stories. Most of these works were seen by very few editors, mostly two or three, which is far, far short of the number of editors who typically see the average work of fiction prior to it being consigned to the metaphorical “trunk” (most writers use a drawer or a box, etc., but for some reason, “box” or “drawer” story doesn’t have much of a ring to it)—I know my late friend Ardath Mayhar once wrote to me that she had sold a story after trying it with forty-six different publications—so technically they may or may not actually be the typical “trunk story.” I like to think of them as stories that missed the digital revolution, and died before anyone could discover them.

One thing that did break my heart in 2008 was the demise of the Canadian magazine (later e-zine), Challenging Destiny, which had published many of my later works of fiction in the last decade. I had sent the publisher many of the works in both this volume and its companion book, The Fold-O-Rama Wars... (the two science fiction collections were originally intended to be one big book), and in between the time I sent off the big Priority Mail envelope jammed with stories, and the time he received it, he’d made the very reluctant decision to terminate the e-zine, in hopes that he might later resurrect the hard copy version. He even paid the price to send everything back to me (which is a rare and generous thing on the part of most editors), but done was done.... His magazine was the last stop for these stories, and I wasn’t able to submit them elsewhere, mainly due to them being too long for the very few magazines which still took hard copy subs back then. I suspect that at least one or two of them might’ve sold to the Canadian magazine; the editor enjoyed my work, and had taken many pieces from me before.

Two of the pieces are continuations of some of the characters and situations described in “The Hikikomori’s Cartoon Kimono”; I had intended for them to be a loose trilogy, but I suppose I was lucky to at least get one of them published, especially in the Thirty-Fifty Anniversary issue of Asimov’s Science Fiction, a magazine I’d literally been trying to get into for over a decade, with many near-misses and super-encouraging notes from the former editor, Gardner Dozois. He didn’t buy this novelette (Sheila Williams did), but at least I did make it into a magazine I’d dreamed of being published in...one more item to cross off the bucket list.

So...even though the other three works in this volume didn’t make the Asimov’s cut, they did generate some lovely and helpful comments from the editor. The other editors who saw them also enjoyed them enough to specifically comment on them. I do hope that you, the final “editor”/reader, at least enjoy them enough to forgive me for being a literary ghost....

A. R. Morlan

August, 2012

—One last thing before I go: for those readers who have not yet seen the two-part Kill Bill film by Quentin Tarantino, you might want to take a look at it before reading the title story of this volume—it will make your understanding of the novelette much clearer. And seeing some Coen Brothers films might not be a bad idea, either. But Kill Bill is sort of a must for understanding my homage to Tarantino...I mean, I even named my one female cat Beatrix Kitto. I’m that much of a fan of that film.