Scott Edelman's Blog

This episode, I invite you to wander off from the Maryland convention Capclave for dinner with one of this year’s Guests of Honor — the multi-award winning writer Naomi Kritzer.

How multi-award-winning? Naomi’s a seven-time Hugo Award nominee (winning twice for short story and twice for novelette) — a three-time Nebula Award nominee (winning once for novelette) — a three-time Lodestar Award nominee — (winning once) — a four-time nominee for the WSFA Small Press Award (winning once) — and has also won the Asimov’s readers poll. Plus she’s been a two-time Andre Norton Award nominee, as well as a finalist for the Eugie, Dragon, and William L. Crawford Awards.

The stories which won her those honors were published in such magazines as Clarkesworld, Analog, Asimov’s, Uncanny, Apex, F&SF, and others, and in such anthologies as Infinity’s End and The Reinvented Heart: Tales of Futuristic Relationships. Many of those stories have been gathered in her collections Gift of the Winter King and Other Stories (2011) and Cat Pictures Please and Other Stories (2017). Her novels include Catfishing on CatNet, Chaos on Catnet, and Liberty’s Daughter. Her novella Obstetrix, published by Tordotcom, is coming in June 2026.

We discussed why a friend stepped up to start submitting stories for her, the question she asked Madeleine l’Engle when she was nine, why she spent years not reading reviews (even the good ones), her surprise at the way “Cat Pictures Please” went viral, what it’s like when you’re on “that” panel at a convention, why she wishes she’d told the early editors to whom she’d submitted how young she was, the many writers time has passed by (and how we hope neither of us will join them), what she was told by her mentor after confessing she wanted to be Ursula K. Le Guin, the story she sold to a market by deliberately writing the sort of story that magazine said it didn’t want, the inability of writers to know which of their stories will resonate most with readers, whether the stories she’s written in response to prompts might have existed in some other form without those prompts, how our writing has been affected by the times in which we live, and much more.

Here’s how you can join us at Silk Road Choyhona —

1) Subscribe at Apple Podcasts — or wherever you choose to consume your podcasts — where I hope you’ll be tempted to sample a few of the 268 previous episodes.

2) Listen via the RSS feed of http://eatingthefantastic.libsyn.com/rss on the device of your choice.

3) Or simply use the embed below.

Here’s what you would have seen us nibbling had you been with us at Silk Road Choyhona —

Samsa
baked layered flaky pastry filled with chopped beef and lamb tallow

Naomi’s Plov
braised boneless lamb leg, rice, roasted garlic, chili pepper,
garbanzo beans, carrot, raisins

Scott’s Dumgaza
slowly braised oxtails with garlic potatoes

If you enjoyed this episode and want to support my mission of breaking bread with creators of the fantastic while letting you eavesdrop, there are several ways you can help bring this podcast to the attention of potential new listeners looking for science fiction, fantasy, horror, and comics ear candy —

One is to rate Eating the Fantastic on Apple Podcasts and like it on Facebook.

Also — you could tell your friends about the show by sending them a link to your favorite episode and letting them know what I’m doing here.

Finally — I hope you’ll consider becoming a supporter of Eating the Fantastic, and help this podcast continue.

You could make a small recurring monthly donation over at Patreon, where there are various perks involved depending on your level of support, such as access to a patrons-only blog, getting a shout-out on the show, stickers, postcards, and more.

Or if an ongoing level of commitment’s not for you, or if Patreon’s just not your thing, then consider tossing a couple of bucks in the tip jar instead and making a one-time donation of any size via Paypal.me.

Or you could head on over to https://ko-fi.com/eatingthefantastic and send me the funds to cover the cost of a cup of coffee.

Coming up two weeks from now, you’ll be able to take a seat at the table for dinner with comics writer/editor Jack C, Harris, whom I first met 52 years ago when he was cosplaying at a con as the great Batman villain Two-Face, and who was an assistant editor at DC at the same time I was one at Marvel. He went on to do much, much more, which you’ll get to hear us discuss if you decide to check us out — which I hope you will.

Thanks for listening!

I took a trip to Brooklyn, New York earlier this week to take part in the latest installment of Brooklyn Books & Booze, which takes place the third Tuesday of each month at Barrow’s Intense Tasting Room. I was joined that night by three other readers — Yume Kitasei, Fran Wilde, and Victor Pineiro.

It was my first chance to talk up and read from my new science fiction short story collection 101 Things to Do Before You’re Downloaded, out this month from PS Publishing. The reason that book cover is so large in my hands is because that isn’t a book I’m holding, as copies haven’t made their way to me quite yet, but a collapsible poster, which I think pops far better in these photos at that larger size than the book itself would have.

If you weren’t in the room Tuesday, you can still hear me read the collection’s introduction, as well as one of the 13 stories inside — “The Lessons Only a Jelly Bean CanTeach.”

Enjoy!

Ever since I saw Dick Bartolo’s video of how he’d arranged with the NYC parks department to install a bench plaque commemorating the late, great William M. Gaines —

— I’ve been wanting to make a pilgrimage to that spot.

And yesterday morning, November 19, 2025, I finally did!

The bench wasn’t easy to find, since DeBartolo gave no clue to its location other than that it was by a marina. Searching online for “Riverside Park marina” yielded nothing. But studying a map of the Manhattan coastline led me to believe it might be somewhere near the West 79th Street entrance to the park, so that’s where I headed.

But that entrance was closed due to construction, and seemed as if it would remain so for quite awhile. So I was forced to take a more circuitous route to the bench. Hoping to help you with your own future pilgrimage, I retraced my steps and started all over again, recording the following video to aid you in your quest.

If that’s not enough, I took this photo facing the bench so you’d be aware of the topography.

I also took a photo from the bench itself out toward the water, figuring the landmarks on the path as well as across the way could also help.

Good luck!

This conversation comes to your ears not as the result of my convention travels, which is the source of so many of the chats I bring you, but instead due to the bookshop reading series Charm City Spec, which has been been taking place quarterly in Baltimore since late 2017.

One of the last installment’s guests was Alaya Dawn Johnson, an award-winning author of eight novels for adults and young adults. Her debut YA novel, The Summer Prince, was long-listed for the National Book Award for Young People’s Literature and was nominated for a Nebula (Andre Norton) Award for YA Science Fiction and Fantasy. Her follow-up YA, Love Is the Drug, won the second of those prestigious awards. Her most recent YA novel, The Library of Broken Worlds, won the BSFA award for Fiction for Young People and was a finalist for the Ursula K. Le Guin award.

Her most recent adult novel, Trouble the Saints, won the 2021 World Fantasy Award for Best Novel. Her short story collection, Reconstruction, published by Small Beer Press in January 2021, was an Ignyte Award and Hurston/Wright Legacy Award finalist. That collection includes her Nebula-Award winning short story, “A Guide to the Fruits of Hawai’i,” originally published by The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction.

Her short stories have appeared in many magazines and anthologies, including Uncanny, Reactor, Clarkesworld, Asimov’s Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy 2015, The Book of Witches, and most notably, in collaboration with Janelle Monáe, the title story in The Memory Librarian. She is currently the visiting professor in the MFA program at Queens College CUNY.

We discussed what led to her “life-defining obsession” with Mexican history, the allure of science fiction’s cognitive estrangement, how the German edition of her vampire novel saved her life, the serendipitous discovery which inspired her first published fantasy story, why she no longer owns any of her rejection slips, which franchise inspired her first fan fiction novels, how a novella which didn’t seem to be working turned into her award-winning novel Trouble the Saints, the way a pajama party led to a novel sale, what she means when she says she’s a pantser while she plots, the way to determine which conflicting  critiques deserve your attention, how to prepare for uncomfortable conversations with editors, the importance of a single word or line to a story, the twin poles of ambiguity vs. explicitness, how Tanith Lee’s The Silver Metal Lover inspired The Summer Prince, the importance of meeting the moment in which you’re living, and much more.

Here’s how you can join us at Ethiopic restaurant —

1) Subscribe at Apple Podcasts — or wherever you choose to consume your podcasts — where I hope you’ll be tempted to sample a few of the 267 previous episodes.

2) Listen via the RSS feed of http://eatingthefantastic.libsyn.com/rss on the device of your choice.

3) Or simply use the embed below.

Here’s what you would have seen us nibbling had you been with us at Ethiopic restaurant —

Alaya’s Vegetarian Sampler
gomen, miser wot, fosolia, tikile gomen, kik aletcha, dinich wot, shimbra asa wot

Scott’s Beef and Chicken Sampler
minchet abish key wot, minchet abish aletcha wot, doro key wot, doro aletcha wot

If you enjoyed this episode and want to support my mission of breaking bread with creators of the fantastic while letting you eavesdrop, there are several ways you can help bring this podcast to the attention of potential new listeners looking for science fiction, fantasy, horror, and comics ear candy —

One is to rate Eating the Fantastic on Apple Podcasts and like it on Facebook.

Also — you could tell your friends about the show by sending them a link to your favorite episode and letting them know what I’m doing here.

Finally — I hope you’ll consider becoming a supporter of Eating the Fantastic, and help this podcast continue.

You could make a small recurring monthly donation over at Patreon, where there are various perks involved depending on your level of support, such as access to a patrons-only blog, getting a shout-out on the show, stickers, postcards, and more.

Or if an ongoing level of commitment’s not for you, or if Patreon’s just not your thing, then consider tossing a couple of bucks in the tip jar instead and making a one-time donation of any size via Paypal.me.

Or you could head on over to https://ko-fi.com/eatingthefantastic and send me the funds to cover the cost of a cup of coffee.

Coming up two weeks from now, you’ll be able to take a seat at the table for an Uzbek dinner with Naomi Kritzer, a four-time winner of the Hugo Award, most recently for her novelette “The Four Sisters Overlooking the Sea,” which took home the trophy earlier this year in Seattle.

Thanks for listening!

[If you’ve already read my original post, scroll down for a November 17th update.]

On August 12, 1971, my 16-year-old self mailed the first story I ever wrote off on its first submission. The publication I hoped would buy that story, my dream market, was The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction.

My tale was quickly — and justifiably — rejected.

On July 17th, 2025, one month shy of 54 years later, I finally sold a story to that magazine. It was my 85th submission across five editors. (I can tell you those precise numbers because when it comes to my writing, not only am I persistent, but I also keep good records.)

I was thrilled!

And I looked forward to the day I could use that sale and subsequent publication of my story to continue sharing a message which has long been my rallying cry to the other members of my writing community. It’s what I shouted to the world after I finally sold a story to Analog after 44 years of trying —

Never give up! Never surrender!

And I was oh, so happy I’d be a living example of that message yet again.

However — between the time of my submission and the story’s acceptance, a new owner had bought not only F&SF, but Analog and Asimov’s as well. And therein lies our tale.

Because two months after my story was accepted, my contract arrived, a contract about which there have been rumblings across the writing community. A contract similar to the ones which caused P. A. Cornell to pull a story that had been accepted by Analog, and resulted in Kristine Kathryn Rusch announcing she’d decided to walk away from both Analog and Asimov’s entirely.

Still, I lived in hope, and was willing to believe I could negotiate my way to a revised contract I’d be willing to sign. After all, Benjamin C. Kinney had done so, even though it took him 27 emails to do it. I was confident I could do the same.

Alas, that turned out not to be the case.

Which meant earlier this week, after what by my count were 23 back and forth emails between me and the new owners of F&SF as I attempted to transform that initial boilerplate contract into something acceptable, I had no choice other than to walk away from my dream.

Let me explain why.

But before I do, I want to preface this by making it clear I have nothing but good things to say about editor Sheree Renée Thomas. Her words of praise as she accepted this story moved me greatly, and her perceptive comments and suggested tweaks ably demonstrated her strengths as an editor. It breaks my heart to disappoint her by pulling a story which was intended to appear in the next issue of F&SF. But, alas, I must.

To start, one of the problems with the Must Read Magazines business model is that any progress achieved by a single author doesn’t accrue to all authors. Each author must start from scratch, negotiating from the same flawed boilerplate, and even if they do manage to arrive at a contract they can comfortably sign, they have in effect ended up with a unique contract unlike those signed by any of the other writers with whom they share a Table of Contents.

For example, I was surprised on receiving my contract to discover this clause, one which I’d thought SFWA had gotten Must Read Magazines to remove from their boilerplate —

The first right to develop or license the development of special projects, including, but not limited to, games, toys, T shirts, calendars, and other items based upon characters, ideas, or plots from the Work, for which we shall pay you a sum equal to a pro-rata share of 50% of the net revenues received by the Publisher from such projects, less production, development, or distribution costs incurred by the Publisher with respect thereto.

The good news is that MRM removed that clause when asked. But I shouldn’t have had to ask. It’s a rights grab which has never popped up in any of the many other short fiction contracts I’ve signed over the years.

MRM also removed other clauses which had they not, would have prevented me from signing their contract, such as the one which appeared to give them the right to act as my foreign agent and share the revenue —

Non-exclusive foreign language right to exercise or license others to publish or archive the Work, in all languages, in magazines and newspapers other than those published by the Publisher.

I was fine with MRM paying me to reprint the story in foreign editions of its own magazine, for F&SF has had a long tradition of publishing editions in languages other than English, and I was comfortable participating in that. But anything else made no sense to me, as I do just fine selling those rights myself and retaining 100% of the money.

After several rounds of emails, we managed to eliminate all but one clause I found problematic — the indemnification clause —

You warrant that the Work (a) was created solely by you, (b) is entirely original, (c) was not copied from any other source or Artificial Intelligence, (d) has not been previously published in any form in any medium, (e) does not defame, disparage, or violate the rights of privacy or publicity or any other rights of any person or institution, including but not limited to false light, public disclosure of private facts, intrusion, and commercial appropriation of name or likeness (f) is not libelous or slanderous, and (g) does not instruct the reader in a way that would cause harm to others intentionally or via negligence (h) does not infringe upon any copyright, trademark, or other proprietary right including but not limited to title, slogan, logo, trade name, trade dress, service mark, or service name (i) does not violate any other law or intend to cause outrage or outrageous conduct, or any prima facie tort. You further warrant that neither the Work nor any rights in it have been sold previously and no one but you possess any rights in or to it. You agree to hold the Publisher, its licensees and assigns harmless against any claims or suits (including costs, expenses, and reasonable attorney’s fees) arising out of a breach or alleged breach of your warranties and/or agreements hereunder.

My issue came down to a single word in the final sentence — “alleged.”

Here’s my first comment to them about that clause —

All other contracts I’ve signed with such a clause end with verbiage referring to claims or suits “sustained,” otherwise that would allow for out-of-court settlements over which I’d have no control and for which I’d be expected to reimburse a publisher. So it’s important that word “sustained” be added. As an example, other contracts I’ve signed have it phrased something like, “Author hereby agrees to indemnify and hold harmless Publisher against any cost, loss, damage, expense, and judgment in any action finally sustained resulting from any breach of Author’s warranties and representations herein, etc.” That word “sustained” in important. The exact verbiage may vary as long as that word remains.

Unfortunately, though MRM offered me a variety of indemnification clause options with varying language, none deleted that word. At one point they did agree to change the wording to “alleged breach finally sustained or reasonably settled,” but to my mind the words “or reasonably settled” invalidated the protections of the words “finally sustained.”

Here’s how I replied to their suggestion —

Unfortunately, the words “reasonably settled” invalidate the protections given by “alleged breach finally sustained,” and I wouldn’t be able to sign a contract with that language.

Let me just toss off a hypothetical.

Say an unhinged individual were to claim my story was based on their actual life, and sue us both. Or that I plagiarized the story. Or any other imagined harm.

With the language “reasonably settled” as part of the contract, F&SF could respond by saying that instead of mounting a defense in the face of a malicious suit, they would pay a few thousands dollars to settle, since that might be cheaper than hiring a lawyer. Some might even call that reasonable, no matter how likely it would be for the individual to lose at trial. And because of those words, I would therefore be required to reimburse F&SF, if that was the decision F&SF made to make the suit go away.

I would not be able to sign any contract — and have never been asked to before — unless it only asked to me hold a publisher harmless in the case of breaches eventually sustained.

In a later email, I again attempted to explain —

Let me attempt one more time to explain why even your most recent clause is unacceptable. Take one example — the last few words of your new suggested clause — “or one that is reasonably settled.”

Reasonable to whom?

Imagine someone brings a nuisance suit.

Some might say it would be reasonable to settle out of court, as it might be less expensive than to mount a legal defense.

Someone else might take a moral stand, and insist it’s never reasonable to settle out of court.

There should never be words in contracts the meanings of which are open to debate.

Along the way, I also submitted with my emails samples of other indemnification clauses so MRW could understand what the accepted industry practice was for such protections. Here are just two of them which I’ve plucked from contracts I’ve signed over the years so you can also see the sort of protective language I’ve found acceptable —

The Author warrants that he or she is the sole author of the Work; that he or she is the owner of all the rights granted to the Publisher hereunder and has full power to enter into this agreement and to make the grants herein contained; that the Work is original and any prior publication of the Work in whole or in part has been fully disclosed to the Publisher; that the Work does not violate the right of privacy of any person; that, to the Author’s knowledge, it is not libelous or obscene and contains no matter which is libelous, in violation of any right of privacy, harmful to the user or any third party so as to subject the Publisher to liability or otherwise contrary to law; and that it does not infringe upon any copyright or upon any other proprietary or personal right of any person, firm or corporation.

The Author will indemnify the Publisher against any loss, injury, or damage finally sustained (including any legal costs or expenses and any compensation costs and disbursements paid by the Publisher) occasioned to the Publisher in connection with or in consequence or any breach of this warranty and which the Publisher is not able to recover under its insurance policies.

Here’s another —

You warrant and represent that you have the right to grant the rights herein granted; that the rights granted here are free and clear; and that your work will not violate any copyright or any right of any third party nor be contrary to law. You agree to indemnify the above listed Editor(s), publisher, and any licensees thereof for any loss, damage, or expense (including reasonable attorneys’ fees) arising out of any sustained claim inconsistent with any of the foregoing warranties and representations.

After much back and forth, ultimately, Must Reads Magazines would not be moved. And since I refused to forfeit the protections which had been incorporated in every other recent contract I’ve been offered in the field, I regretfully withdrew my story.

That we needed to go back and forth like this is indicative of there being something very wrong with the Must Read Books business model. It’s been a long time since I was unable to sign an offered contract as written, and yet here I was being asked to act as if we were drafting the first short story contract ever to be created, collaborating to reinvent the wheel. The matter of indemnification clauses in short fiction contracts was settled a long time ago, and I had no intention of breaking from that norm.

All I hoped was that MRW would look to what every other magazine and anthology publisher in the field has been doing, an industry standard they could have matched with the substitution of a few words I’d originally suggested, but which was found unacceptable.

Here’s the closing sentence of their original clause, with my proposed edits marked in brackets —

You agree to hold the Publisher, its licensees and assigns harmless against any claims or suits (including costs, expenses, and reasonable attorney’s fees) arising out of [a breach or alleged breach] [to be replaced with “any action finally sustained”] of your warranties and/or agreements hereunder.

Since it had been made clear to me there would be no agreeing to that or even something close to that, there was no point in continuing negotiations, and the short story I’d hoped would appear in the pages of F&SF will shortly be submitted to another market.

Compounding this tragedy is that since I was unable to succeed in convincing Must Read Magazines to issue a contract for F&SF I could sign, that also puts off limits to me the two other publications they own — Analog and Asimov’s. Which means I need to withdraw the stories I currently have under consideration at those magazines as well, so as not to waste the time of the editors. Because even if either of those editors were to decide to buy them — and I’ve been published in Analog twice before — and a contract were issued, we would only end up where are now — with me sad over the death of a dream.

That I and others like me have felt the need to walk away from three of the most prestigious magazines in our field is tragic.

What do I hope you will take away from this?

First, note that as writers, we each choose draw our lines in the sand differently. There are those for whom the word “alleged” was not a sticking point, found the clause acceptable, went ahead and signed the contacts, and were published in one of MRW’s three magazines. There are others who may have found some of the clauses I considered acceptable to be unacceptable, and balked for entirely different reasons. This all boils down to the proverbial IMHO. So I don’t judge any other writer’s decision.

It is therefore merely my opinion — not a legal opinion, for I am not a lawyer, but merely a personal opinion — that it would be foolish for any writer to sign a contract containing that word “alleged,” particularly when it goes against the standards of our industry and is absent from every other contract I can remember signing.

But more important than that is — remember that no dream — not even one 54 years old — is worth a perceived risk. If I can walk away from fulfilling that dream, so can you, should you find yourself tempted by a contract you deem unacceptable.

And my final words are, of course — Never give up! Never surrender!

POSTSCRIPT: Monday, November 17, 2025

When I hit publish on this post Wednesday, November 12th, I believed that marked the end of my journey. But to my great surprise, on the night of the 14th — two days after I withdrew my accepted F&SF story from publication as well as my Analog and Asimov’s stories from their respective queues, immediately submitting all three elsewhere — I received word from MRM they’d at last be willing to delete the word “alleged” from their indemnification clause in favor of “sustained,” substituting a variation on one of the samples I’d sent them.

Which seemed strange for a story which because there seemed no chance of them ever budging had already been pulled. That hadn’t been a negotiating technique on my part. I truly thought the exhausting back and forth was over, and I wouldn’t need to think of MRM again.

They, however, seemed to think their post-withdrawal offer alone would solve our disagreement, and my story could then once again be back on track for publication in F&SF.

While I do give them credit for finally coming around to matching what every other short fiction market already offers, I decided I couldn’t be so selfish as to accept for myself what wasn’t also being offered to all writers published in MRM magazines. I decided the only way I’d allow their offered revision to be a win for me would be if I could somehow turn it into a win for you as well.

And so here is how I replied —

While I appreciate your willingness to finally incorporate a reasonable indemnification clause in my contract, our extensive back and forth gave me a distaste for the Must Read Magazine business model of not allowing the progress any individual writer has made toward reaching a fairer contract to accrue to all writers. That policy benefits those of us who have been around for awhile, are knowledgeable, and strong willed, while taking advantage of newer writers and those who don’t know any better.

And so the lesson I’ve taken from our intense negotiations — the first time in many years I couldn’t sign a contract as offered — is that I don’t want my byline in F&SF or any of the MRM magazines to send an incorrect message to my community that I’m OK with this, that all is well with your contracts, and therefore other writers should simply go ahead and sign them.

Which means at this point, I no longer feel comfortable signing a contract which only benefits me alone. As much as I’d love to be published in F&SF, I am not that selfish.

On the other hand, if going forward you were willing to remove the word “alleged” from *all* MRM contracts, so that indemnification clauses from now on only referenced “finally sustained,” I would consider that acceptable progress, and sign the contract. If not, let’s just go on as before, with the story withdrawn. …

I hope you’ll see your way to taking my advice and incorporating my ongoing suggestion, because my community is more important to me than any single sale, even one which would fulfill a lifelong dream.

My suggestion didn’t achieve the goal I’d hoped for. What can I say? I’m not a diplomat, and I don’t think I truly believed they’d come around … but I had to give it a shot.

After that, there was further back and forth attempting to persuade me to set aside my greater goal and sign the contract, with an intimation that final offered change might someday be broadened to the boilerplate for others, but that could only be after further consultation with lawyers, insurance companies, and the SFWA contracts committee. There was even what I interpreted as an insinuation the MRM magazines could only survive if writers became more willing to sign contracts, as if I would be the cause of their eventual demise.

All of that added up to more than enough for me, and so tonight, I sent what I presume will be my final reply —

You’ve asked me to let you know what I’ve decided to do, and what I’ve decided to do is what has already been done. The story was withdrawn. The story remains withdrawn. Perhaps someday, with future changes to the basic boilerplate MRM contract, I could see myself being part of your stable of magazines … but not now.

I don’t think you fully appreciate the extent of the distaste this unnecessary back and forth has given me for your business practices, and how my patience has been stretched to the breaking point.

I asked MRM to amend the indemnification clause to “finally sustained” back on September 22nd — nearly two months ago.

Nothing I said could convince you to make that change, not even sending five sample indemnification clauses from other contracts and much back and forth about how that’s the industry standard, and how you were introducing a risk no other genre magazine had before — not until I after threw up my hands and ultimately withdrew the story.

Only then, after I took it back and submitted it elsewhere, did you offer to make the change I needed.

That is unacceptable behavior, and as far as I’m concerned, too little, too late. Do it for all of us, or don’t do it at all. I won’t sign a contract which would indicate to the field this is an acceptable way of doing business, not even for the fulfillment of a lifelong dream.

This entire ordeal has been exhausting, and after a career during which I have rarely had to make a single revision request to a short fiction contract, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

One last thing before I sign off — in a previous email, you attempted to blame the possible death of F&SF on me and other writers who wouldn’t sign your contracts in an act which felt like shaming and bullying. I found that both insulting and condescending, since the issue is and always has been not us, the writers, but the flawed MRM contract. I suggest you not use that tactic in the future when negotiating with others, as it backfired on me in a major way, making me even less likely to sign any MRM contract.

I’m regret it has to be this way, but this is the way it has to be.

And yes, I truly do regret it had to be this way.

The 16-year-old boy still living inside me who 54 years ago slipped his first completed manuscript into a manila envelope and mailed it off to F&SF is greatly disappointed.

But the 70-year-old adult I am today knows — some things are greater than disappointment, and it had to be done.

And even though this lengthy story of mine turned out to have a postscript, let my message forever be — Never give up! Never surrender!