The SF/gothic/ghost story is finished and off to the editor. After a little back and forth that made the story more cohesive, I am very satisfied with this version. I deleted some elements and emphasized others and added a few points here and there.
I enjoy working with this editor very much. She’s professional and knows what she is doing and her suggestions make for a better story. I have worked with other editors who were at the beginning end of the learning curve. It’s frustrating. If they stick with the business they may get better, but unfortunately now more than ever the publishing business is so fragmented that anyone can call themselves an editor and not have the necessary background or aptitude. Those are always really negative experiences.
So, here’s a tidbit from Memories of Gravity to tide you over. I will let everyone know when the anthology comes out.
Transmission to: Captain Beatriz Sabatini, Bifrost Station
Date: May 26, 2237
From: Maher, Craven, Edelweiss, and Stroheim, Attorneys at Law
Dear Captain Sabatini,
We regret to inform you of the death of your grandfather, Richard Aldo Sabatini, on May 10, 2237.
Almost at once I was thrown back into my childhood, reliving memories I had tried so hard to bury, so hard that I fled them off-world and halfway across the solar system. The adults at the funeral home whispered over my head as I sat kicking my chair, sad and frightened, not even the pretty dress and the shiny shoes making up for what I knew.
What will become of her, poor thing?
I heard the grandfather is taking her in.
Has anyone contacted her father?
The delicate laughter that followed and I strained to make out the words: Does anyone know which one he was?
I forced myself to concentrate on the present and read the rest of the message. It was simple, text only. My grandfather had left me everything, but owing to ancient Earth laws, I had to return home to deal with my inheritance in person. I could not assign a proxy, nor could I engage a lawyer off-world to represent me in these matters.
I sat back, staring at the frozen text hanging in the air in front of me. Out of habit I lifted my hand to the scar that ran from my temple to my jawline, the last gift of my grandfather before I fled his presence as far as I could. “How far do I have to go to get away from you people?”