Light at New Latitude →
The November issue of PANK is out, and I have a story in it:
She was on her back under a stiff sheet in a bed with metal side rails too low for her to pull herself up by. With her shoulder weight on one elbow and slowly onto both she was able to boost herself upright with only slender flashes deep in her head that did not ignite. Through a slow-pitched hum and taupe blinds she saw steel and glass upper floors—city buildings tinting out of afternoon, and fir and spring-colored hills beyond them. The hills and buildings passed through many shades of gold until she realized they were red.
A few of you may feel you’ve read something similar from me before, and you may have! This story began as a revision of my first published story for a book contest I ended up not entering… but I realized that, except for 200 words and the basic premise, I was writing an entirely new story. It’s humbling to think that I would not have had the technical chops to envision this when I wrote the original—what, in another four or five years, will I think about the way I’m writing now?
