ouroboros

Last night, I dreamt I was dreaming about having accepted a commission to write a book about dreaming.

I then dreamt that I woke up, realized I'd been dreaming, and told about my dream to an editor (no one I know in real life), who looked skeptical when I suggested that perhaps, after all, I should write a book about dreaming.

Then I woke up and realized I'd been dreaming about dreaming about having to write a book about dreaming, and then dreaming about telling someone about this dream I'd had.

So now I'm telling you.

I feel it's my duty.

has anyone here seen Kristie?

Quite a few years ago I published in the late, much lamented magazine The Third Alternative a fantasy novelette called "Has Anyone Here Seen Kristie?" Some of its readers loved it, some of them hated it (too erotic), a couple said it was "a great Edinburgh story" (which filled me with joy), and so on. I've always loved it, because it seemed to me a good portrayal of a man, filled with guilt that it might have been his own shallowness that caused the suicide of his first wife, finally learning how to absolve himself and carry on living.

You know, typical Grant angst. But with lots of rude bits.

Anyway, Keith Brooke at Infinity Plus Ebooks is starting up a line called Infinity Plus Singles, epublications of single longish stories designed to appeal to the emerging Lunchbreak Market -- i.e., readers who want to find something they can download for 99c to read in their lunchbreak. I'm lucky enough that he's asked for three of my stories to be in his launch package; other authors who've so far signed up include Kit Reed, Neil Williamson, Anna Tambour and Sarah Ash, so I feel (a) that I'm in heady company and (b) that should this venture fail it'll probably be because of the weak link in the chain -- i.e., moi.

Today Keith sent through a couple of cover roughs, and I'm thrilled as can be about them. Here's the one for "Kristie":

Natty, huh? It has a sort of Faber & Faber coolness to it. All of the Infinity Plus Singles are apparently to have this same basic design. I think this endeavour shows every possible promise.