I have dedicated this collection to John O’Neill and Tina Jens. From the earliest years of my would-be career, these two have been my champions and friends. They are tireless advocates for any new writers they meet, canny editors, and brilliant writers in their own right. Some of my first publication-worthy short stories wouldn’t have been without them. Through Tina Jens and Twilight Tales, I met a bevy of Chicago horror writers. Through John O’Neill and Black Gate, the rich world of sword and sorcery, along with its finest swashbuckling scriveners, like James Enge, Martha Wells, and Howard Andrew Jones, opened its ruby-crusted dungeon doors to me. It was John O’Neill who published “Life on the Sun” in Black Gate, as a sequel to my novella “Godmother Lizard,” also set in the Bellisaar Wasteland, and my first Black Gate sale.
For “The Bone Swans of Amandale,” I must thank (or perhaps blame) the erstwhile Injustice League: Delia Sherman, Ellen Kushner, Cat Valente, Lev Grossman, Kat Howard, and particularly Doctor Theodora Goss. It is to them I owe my brief taste of a for-real-and-true New York City writing group. In Ellen’s and Delia’s living room, between clothing swaps and writing critiques, I happened to be flipping through Mercer Mayer’s The Pied Piper and grew particularly enamored of his little illustrated rats. Sometime in an idle moment, Theodora Goss mentioned that she’d love to have a rose named after her. The name “Dora Rose” sprang to mind, along with the image of a swan princess. I defy you to spend any amount of time around Theodora Goss and not start hallucinating about swan princesses. That, and my innate obsession with the Grimms’ tale of “The Juniper Tree” was what got me to my own Pied Piper retelling.
The genesis of “Martyr’s Gem” came from a dream, but the daytime writing was aided by so many: Ann Leckie, who first published it in GigaNotoSaurus, and whose keen editorial eye only improved it. My beautiful mother Sita, who has listened to every draft. Amal El-Mohtar and her parents Leila and Oussama, at whose house I took up the story thread after neglecting it for many months. With Amal, I must also mention our Caitlyn Paxson; as the Banjo Apocalypse Crinoline Troubadours, we three have performed the storytelling scene from “Martyr’s Gem” at several conventions and concert venues, which is always thrilling. Janelle McHugh, who strung me a necklace like the one Shursta made for Hyrryai. Erik Amundsen, Magill Foote, and Grant Jeffery, together with drummer Will Sergiy IV and several actors of Flock Theatre, who helped me put together an animated short of that same scene. Rich Horton for selecting it for his Year’s Best anthology. Geoff Leatham, Ben Leatham, and my friend Eric Michaelian, who gave me a rare and beautiful few minutes of hearing three readers discuss my story unabashedly right in front of me, as I grinned and glowed at them and occasionally spun pirouettes for pure joy.
Many a discussion I’ve had with my friend and fellow writer “Dread” Patty Templeton about the ubiquitous presence of beautiful people in all our storytelling media. The heroes and heroines of “Martyr’s Gem” and “Milkmaid” came out of our ardent assertion that those of us who are plain or just plain ugly are as capable of passionate, witty, romantic, terrifying adventures as pretty people. As Leonard Cohen wrote, “Well, never mind it / We are ugly, but we have the music.” I think of Patty Templeton when I think of my Milkmaid and her Gentry Prince. I also think of my best friend Kiri-Marie O’Mahony, who once sat there and described the entire story of “Milkmaid” to me and then asked, “So, have you ever read it?” And looked so very astonished when I reminded her, amid whoops of laughter, that I had written it.
For “The Big Bah-Ha,” I thank JoSelle Vanderhooft, who originally acquired it for Drollerie Press. I thank Jeremy Cooney for creating two marvelous trailers for it. I thank Rebecca Huston (always and forever), whose collaboration and artwork awake fires in me. I thank Gillian Hastings again for being my roommate at the time it was written, and a luminous one at that.
I cannot leave off without mentioning the names of these my beloved community of writers, readers, musicians, and artists (and not even as many of them as I’d like): Samu Rahn, Miriam Mikiel Grill, Ysabeau Wilce, Tiffany Trent, Sharon Shinn, Katie Redding, Jeanine Vaughn, Shveta Thakrar, Julia Rios, Karen Meisner, Dominik Parisien, Nicole Kornher-Stace, Jack Hanlon, Francesca Forrest, Jennifer Crow, Jessica Wick, and S. J. Tucker.
For the support of my family, who always told me to “follow my bliss”—in those words and in so many others—I can but be wholly indebted. Particularly I wish to mention again Sita Aluna, Rory Cooney, Terry Donohoo, Louise Riedel, Rose DeFer, and my brothers Joel, Aidan, Jeremy, Declan, and Desmond.
Last but not least (in fact, the opposite), thank you, Mike and Anita Allen. Without you, (ha! Literally) this book would not have been possible.
About the Author
C. S. E. Cooney is a Rhode Island writer who lives across the street from a Victorian strolling park. She is the author of The Breaker Queen and The Two Paupers (Books One and Two of the Dark Breakers trilogy), The Witch in the Almond Tree, How To Flirt in Faerieland and Other Wild Rhymes, and Jack o’ the Hills. She won the 2011 Rhysling Award for her story-poem “The Sea King’s Second Bride.”
Other examples of her work can be found in Rich Horton’s Year’s Best Science Fiction and Fantasy (2011, 2012, 2014), The Nebula Awards Showcase (2013), The Mammoth Book of Steampunk Adventures (2014), The Moment of Change, Black Gate, Uncanny, Strange Horizons, Apex, GigaNotoSaurus, Subterranean, Ideomancer, Clockwork Phoenix, Steam-Powered II: More Lesbian Steampunk Stories, The Book of Dead Things, Cabinet des Fées, Stone Telling, Goblin Fruit, and Mythic Delirium.
Her website is http://csecooney.com.
