ways. To this end, the [heretofore unnamed anthology] of science fiction that fucks your shit up, and fucks up your mormon shit and fucks up your mom, in the nicest possible way, is hereby inaugurated. We need six thousand dollars, which equals 100,000 words at the SFWA approved rate, so that this little book will be a professional killer, not of your mom, or your sister, or you, or the other nice people we know, but of the shit that stinks out there, the bullshit. This anthology kicks bullshit’s ass so hard that it just might die. Fuck bullshit. God bless you and your mom. Give us 6,000 dollars so we can then give that money all back to the writers who produce ass-kicking mind-blowing empire-destroying lubcricating transorbital epics of god-acious awesome mind expansion in the form of science fiction stories. We love it and so do you. Give us your cash and then we give you the love. So long time it’s unbelievable. Fuck my balls.
Who am I, you ask?
No, you do not ask.
Who are you? This is what we want to know.
But, you want to know: what is the plan, man?
This is the plan: fuck bullshit. Publish science fiction. What is science fiction? It’s jet fuel, baby. It’s William S. Burroughs and William Gibson having sex. Fuck that’s nasty. But can you imagine what kind of a baby they would have? Neither can I. I’m not sure that baby would be science fiction. But the woman who took care of that baby, she’d know a lot of science fiction. So: fuck bullshit.
We need money so that we can then give all that money back to you. You know how it works. You suffer, people kick your ass, then you go home, and you write a story. Then you send that story to people, begging them to give you money. Usually, they tell you to go fuck yourself. We’ll do that too. Sometimes, they say, hey we’re gonna give you money. We’ll do that too, once you give us money so we can give it back to you.
I’m making it sound more complicated than it is. It’s simple. fuck bullshit. We should probably name the anthology that. But that would offend children. They’re delicate creatures, children, and the f word makes them explode. So, the title might be something like: “les phoques” which is french for “seals” but sounds like “lay fuck.” Or not.
So: I know you’re wondering: what are the “guidelines.” Shit. Guidelines. Okay. Guidelines are good. These are the guidelines: no more than 10,000 words per person.
Other than that, fuck guidelines.
Send us something that fucks us up.
Shit, you still have questions, don’t you!
Well, I have answers for you. Wait, what’s your question?
Oh, what happens to the book?
We haven’t gotten there yet.
I’m considering having a guest editor. We’ll see.
Once we get the money, then you can send your nice stories to [unspecified email address]
The stories should be in English, in a word document, *.doc or *.rtf. the stories should kick my ass.No stories in it from me, the editor. Stories in it from you, the writer. Ha hya chouhada.
So thanks for reading, and thanks for being awesome!
The next morning . . .
The plan has improved! We're taking pledges. Here's how it works. You email me at settdigger AT gmail DOT com and say "Robin, I want to give you money! Here's how much: one dollar." Then I write you back and say, "Wow, you're awesome! Do you want me to publish your name and web site next to your one dollar pledge right here on [unspecified anthology]'s awesome web site?" Then you write back and say, "Yup, I'm Joe and I'm at Joe.com" or you say "to hell with that, I just want to give you money." It's just that simple. So simple even an idiot can do it. And thank God for that, because none of our brains are getting any bigger. To start things off and be awesome, I'm pledging my own hard earned money to get this sweet little evil baby of a science fiction mutant spawn off to a healthy start in life:
Robin Wyatt Dunn: $10 www.robindunn.com