Believe it or not I am suddenly bone achingly cool.
How to be impossibly bone-achingly cool? Me? I’m a jerk, yes? I know that. But I am going to The Moon. By proxy, yep, but I’m off. See you later suckers.
There’s a Canadian artist whose ambition is to get writers on The Moon. Wackjob thinking, yes? I like it though. She’s bootlegging some space on a lunar lander module due to go up in July, and it contains, among other things, an anthology by a Canadian compiler. Can’t really remember how I got involved in this, but I did, and the digitised version is going the THE MOON! And my story is going with it!
I’m going to the Moon. I’ve been excited by this possibility since being electrified by Apollo 11 in 1969. And now I’m going!
I’m chairdancing here. I’m so excited. Something I wrote will end up ON THE MOON! Just how cool am I? How cool is that?
Funnily enough, it’s a frothy bit of jokey sci-fi nonsense about aliens coming to Earth. Certain irony there, is there not?
But I wrote it, and somebody thinks it deserves a one-way trip to the Moon. Bloody hell.
You can find my story, ‘Why I hate being the dog,’ in this anthology. Do me a favour, nip over to Amazon, and leave a review of the anthology. Lots of people put in lots of hours here, and all the proceeds go to a good cause that’s very close to my heart.