"Harry Harrison - Galactic Dreams" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

he was a true SF fan, attended conventions, etc.

Most authors are indeed reluctant to reveal their occupation to strangers.
This is not from shyness - never that! - but from sad experience. (When
questioned I usually say that "I'm in publishing," which is indeed true.)
Science fiction fans and readers don't do it - but all mundanes do. There are
two questions that are always asked. And I mean always.

1. Where do you get your ideas from?

2. Under what name do you write?

The second question is a roundabout way of saying "I never heard of you.тАЭ


In a fit of pique I once answered "Mark Twain.тАЭ

My interlocutor nodded wisely and said that, yes, he thought he had heard of
me.

These are memories that I treasure. Not only for the egoboo - an SF fan term,
contraction of "ego boost" - which is of course pleasurable. But more for the
fact that I am not writing in an ivory tower, that I am writing for an
intelligent readership that values my work, gets satisfaction from it - and is
not ashamed to tell me so.

Yes, I work for money since I am a writer who likes to eat - not to mention
drink - and who enjoys fending for his family. But once you get past the money
you must look at the fulfillment of reader satisfaction. SF writers are
incredibly lucky in their readers. They organize conventions and give feedback
and moral aid when needed. I do not envy Barbara Cartland. She may write a
book every four hours and have as much money as the late Mr. Maxwell. But she
has no BC fans as I have SF fans.

The stories in this book were written over the span of many years. They reread
well - even better once I had taken out all errors that printers let creep
into typeset manuscripts. I admit to a certain amount of polishing; an unkempt
phrase here, a maladroit sentence there. But nothing major; they were written
to the best of my ability the first time around.

I enjoy writing. I shall keep doing it as long as my quavering fingers can
fumble across the keyboard.

I also enjoy the awards that come with a writing career. A few weeks ago I was
in London, in a branch of the booksellers W. H. Smith. Looking at the shelves,
I discovered that I had been awarded one of the greatest prizes in publishing
- and no one had told me about it.

My name was posted on the shelf in the science fiction section.
This is for real - like having your name on a star in the sidewalk on