The Plague Reader

Opened up my mailbox most recent issue of Analog, cracked it open, and did a total double-take.

“Hey, that’s me in the table of contents!”

Granted, I knew my story was going to be in this issue, but there’s always that little (okay, let’s be honest…BIG) part of me that can’t quite believe my work is appearing in a publication that I have read and loved since, well, forever.

I inherited my subscription to Analog from my dad (and F&SF as well), and have kept them going for some time--partly as a remembrance, partly to stay somewhat current in the SF genre, but mostly because I enjoy the hell out of them.

How fortunate, then, that my son has just embarked upon his first months of preschool and come home dripping with the effluvium of a dozen other children. Not a single week has gone by without him infecting my partner and I with some form of infantile plague. Those among my friends who have already braved parenthood have informed me that this will be, and I quote: "A year from hell."

Ah, my little vector. I love him so much.

That being said. One of my complaints about becoming a father is that it has seriously cut into my reading time (well, unless you count board books about farm animals and anthropomorphic dinosaurs). The silver lining to this lingering ague is that I can now curl up (between bouts of uncontrollable shivering) with the small stack of Analog and F&SF issues that have been piling next to my reading chair.

This may be a year from hell, but it'll be an entertaining one, at least.