A Dream That Stays A Dream

It has become pretty clear by now that my dream of writing a book of tales inspir'd by the weird fantasies of Clark Ashton Smith ain't gonna happen. It's not a problem of inspiration, really, but of lost of interest. I just can't be bother'd. I have, over ye years, fear'd that my ability to write fiction was coming to an end; and although that has never actually been the case, it has now been quite a while since I've had any desire to work on something new. Without interest there can be no art. Writing, for me, has to be an experience of pleasure, of delight; & indeed there is nothing more wonderful than to be in that writing "zone" and get carry'd away by my Muse. I certainly have the time to write, because I am no longer employ'd and my time is entirely my own to do with as I wish. But all I wish to do these days is sit in my living room and read books and doze. Perhaps this comes from being 66 years of age and having less energy than ever before. I'm actually not too concern'd about ye whys or wherefores. My basic attitude toward life at this point is to just cherish the experience of existence as best I can and be thankful that I was lucky enough to have a family that supports me, parents that gave me the home in which I spent my happy youth and that now my sister lets me live in for ye rest of my days. 

I am, of course, excited to see my new forthcoming books, because being a writer is a thing that I cherish, and a huge part of the delight of that lifestyle is having a new book published, to be able to hold that actual book n my hand. There seems to be an idea that books are now a thing of the past and that to be an author is mainly a digital experience. I can't accept that idea, and if I thought it was true I would probably stop writing anything and just fade away. For me, to be an author is to have a book published, to have a copy that I can hold and additional copies that I can give as gifts to beloved chums. I promise you, on the day that I get my first copy of AN ECSTASY OF FEAR AND OTHER TALES from Centipede press, I will be holding ye book as I jump up and down screaming in delight. 

Be well, my sweets.


  1. Wilum, you have created a world of your own making in Sesqua Valley. Your writings are already, in this one's opinion, upthere with CAS, HPL et al. Your alchemical mixing of the Lovecraftian with the Wildean reminds me of Baudelaire and other writers, but the writing remains purely yours. Your works are a joy and a wonder in the lives of many. whatever you write now will have a loyal following and your opus is a legacy to behold. Have you considered, as Caitlin Kiernan has at Brown, archiving your work for posterity? The Muse will come in dreams. G ;-)=


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