Letters of Note: To My Old Master.

The year is 1865. A former slaveowner writes to one of his slaves, requesting that he return to service. Of course, the slave is now a free man–and he writes one hell of a letter to his former master. It starts like this:

Sir: I got your letter, and was glad to find that you had not forgotten Jourdon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this, for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Colonel Martin’s to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living.

…and it only gets better from there. Go read it.

1) Freddie Mercury
2) Jim Henson
3) Octavia Butler

I still mourn them all.

Other business-related news: I am reading stories from 2011 so I can make nominations for the Hugo and Nebula awards. If you’re a writer who’s published something this year that you’d like me to consider, please post a link in the comments or just email me the story. I’ll try to get to everything (one story per person, please).

And if you’re a writer who’s also reading/nominating, I hope you’ll consider The Sighted Watchmaker, which was published in Lightspeed in December 2011. Thank you!

Raar. This completely rules!

Two fun facts about The Sighted Watchmaker:

1) The editor, John Joseph Adams, actually rejected this story the first time I sent it. I sent it elsewhere. A year later, he emailed me and said, “I was thinking about that Sighted Watchmaker story. Is it still available?” I guess it left an impression.

2) I wrote this in one sitting. It took 3 hours. What you read at Lightspeed is basically what I put on the page. This is very rare, but awesome when it happens. The unofficial term for this event is “a gift from the Muse.” Thanks, Muse!

This is why I’m willing to believe quite a bit of weirdness when I read sf stories about aliens. We have creatures on this planet that look even weirder than what we imagine.

I have a theory that people who’ve never struggled with depression will find this cartoon sad, while people who do struggle with depression will laugh and laugh and cry a little and then keep laughing. BECAUSE IT IS TRUE.

What do you think? Sad, hilarious, or a little of both?

(Personally, I had fun at the con itself and nothing went badly for me. But there were bad things happening to my friends. And that dampens my enjoyment of the whole con.)