"A. R. Morlan - Dear DB" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morlan A R)

The Little Engine That Could, who said "I think I can, I think I can;" only in
my case it was more like "I think I am I think I am a WOMAN!" It happened! A
cabbie, one I'd never seen before, who brought me home from a movie I took in
one night (only fools and vampires ride the subways come night, whether people
think they are men or not!) actually said "Thanks, lady," when I told him to
keep the change. I could have kissed the slob, three days' stubble or not! And
better yet, I soon got back replies on most of the things I sent out; all with
either rejection slips or contracts (!) addressed to "Miss" or "Ms." Winston!
I figured that it had to be working; Mrs. Pendleton didn't snort and
toss her hair-netted head when she saw me coming down the hall, and Mr.
Hernandez had finally stopped calling me a _"loco gringo."_ All this put me in
such a good mood I even considered springing for a long-distance call home.
You know, "reach out and _touch_ someone" sung in _soprano,_ for a change! The
dogs were even licking my hands again, no more rumbling and tail-thump-less
greetings. I decided to brave Bloomies again, too.
My wonderful mood continued when I got my contributor's copies of
_Bloodbath;_ the Potter cover was even better in color. Seeing it reminded me
that I had to contact the editor about changing my name on future issues, but
I figured that I had plenty of time for that. That night I tried calling home,
no answer. They probably were at the bowling alley-cum-arcade, renting video
tapes or something stimulating like that. I decided to try a daytime call,
what the hell, surprise the folks, make 'em happy. Share the feeling.
More joy the next day; my check my great big check came from _Skin
Magazine_ for "The Metamanphosis," made out to "D.B. Winston." Looking it
over, I decided to write The Editor and let him know that I wanted the by-line
of the story changed. _Shouldn't be a biggie,_ I told myself, kicking myself
for actually forgetting something like a sale to _Skin!_ Maybe I had _wanted_
to forget it, make it not so by forgetting that something in my life had
_prompted_ such a tale ... besides, I was sure that Mr. _Skin_ Editor would
get a kick out of the "Bambi" part of my name. I couldn't wait to tell my




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folks about the big check, but there was no answer in either the morning,
afternoon, or evening. Slightly saddened, I tacked the check in a place on
honor above my bed and resolved to call again the following morning ... but
something kept me from making that morning call.
The mailman had a hard time getting my contributor's copies from _Skin_
into my box; the envelope covering them was badly torn. When I saw them, I ran
down the street to the nearest kiosk, and found that the latest issue of _Skin
Magazine,_ with "D.B. Winston's "The Metamanphosis" a Study of the Ultimate
Identity Crisis!" advertised on the front cover, just to the left of the
model's barely covered nipple, was out for sale.
I zombie-walked back to my apartment ("the Ultimate Identity Crisis!")
and after I locked the door behind me, I sat down on the bed to read the
"Under the _Skin"_ author's section. A brief mention of me was in there, a few
lines about my publishing history, capped by the line "he is one of the best
up-and-coming horror writers in America."