I’m starting the new year with an on-line story publication. My story “Clinic” which came out of the research I’m doing for a new Nelscott novel has just appeared on Subterranean’s site for the winter issue. You can check it out here.

Gordon Van Gelder is doing a nifty thing to celebrate F&SF’s sixtieth anniversary. He’s reprinting some classic stories from the magazine’s first 59 years. He’s asking former editors and others to introduce the stories and (in some cases) pick them.

He asked me which story from my tenure that I would choose. I chose “The Night We Buried Road Dog,” by Jack Cady. To understand why I made that choice, see the introduction I wrote in the February issue. Just click on the image above, and it’ll link you to the F&SF site.

If you’ve never read “Road Dog,” now’s your chance. It’s a hell of a story.

This lovely cover comes from Esli, the Russian version of If. Inside, if you can read Russian, you’ll find a number of excellent stories. How do I know? I read them in English. Not all of them, mind you, but several of the stories come from U.S. venues. The rest, as far as I can tell (and I don’t read [much] Russian [just my name, really]), are from Russian authors.

The reason I have a copy is because my story, “Recovering Apollo 8,” is the final story in the issue. I’ve had a number of stories in Esli and they’ve always treated me well, and done a lovely job with the story–or the art, at least. And it is a beautiful magazine.

We’re in the process of moving books from one room to another, organizing the library and the backstock and, well, our lives, really.

I’m moving my overstock of everything that I’ve published in fiction, anyway.  It’s impossible for me to do so with non-fiction, since I didn’t start at the beginning of my career.  Heaven knows what I’ve lost or misplaced or simply forgotten.

In my writing office, I have one copy of every story and novel that I’ve published, in order of publication.  (Or in the order in which I received contributors copies.)  The stuff I’m moving now are the extra copies.  The 48 copies of a novel from the U.S. or the 10 copies of a magazine.

What I’m noticing, however, is that I’ll often pick up an issue of a magazine and think, “Did I have a story in there?”  Realize I’ve published hundreds of short stories over my career.  The novel covers I remember, but not all the magazine covers.

Except for the magazine covers from my first 2 years of publishing fiction.  Those I know as well as I know my friends.

What I realized is simple, really:  In those days, a short story publication was an event.  And well it should have been, considering how long it took me to sell my first short story.  But somewhere in the early 1990s, after about four years of steady short story sales, I stopped staring happily at the covers.  I still recall my first cover stories (heck, all of my cover stories), but not every cover of every issue of every magazine I’ve appeared in. 

It’s the same with anthologies.  With two writers in the house, sometimes our overstock gets mixed up.  More than once, as I’m doing this move, I’ve checked the contents to make certain that the book I’m putting in my pile is one with my story inside.  Inevitably it is.  But I am amazed at how much I have forgotten.

I never thought it possible, even though I knew it was possible.  At my very first World Science Fiction Convention, I had a book signing with Fred Pohl and Jack Williamson.  I have no idea why, but the con had scheduled the three of us together.  (Thank heavens we knew each other–Fred and Jack were two of my instructors at the workshop where I met Dean.)  They had lines that extended through the door, into the corridor and around the corner.  I had no line at all.  In that hour, the only person who came to see me was some guy who wanted his picture taken with “a Locus covergirl”  (My picture had recently been on Locus Magazine’s cover.)

But Fred and Jack signed and signed and signed.  And often, they would pick up a magazine or a book and squint at it.  A few times one of them would say, “Ah, yes.  I’d forgotten that story.”  And I remember thinking, “How can you forget a story?”

I haven’t forgotten any stories.  But I have forgotten what the publications they first appeared in look like.  I find that startling–and reassuring at the same time.  Because it simply confirms what I’ve always said:  Writing is my job.  Do you remember what you did at work 15 years ago?  I often remember the content of a story, but not where it appeared or what (if anything) I wrote it for.

It’s quite fun to put everything in order–and not in the order it was received.  The magazines are going in date order.  The anthologies are alphabetical by title (because I’ll never remember how to find them by editor).  I’m not overwhelmed yet, but I figure it’s only a matter of time….

My husband, Dean Wesley Smith, is doing a fantastic series on how to set goals.  I mentioned it a few weeks ago, but I’ve been reading the blogs, and they’re getting better and better.  If you ever thought of writing and are having trouble applying butt to chair, read these.  You can find them here.