When you have two kids who are less than four years old, you view the Toobychubbies as a godsend. No matter how good your intentions are to be the best mother in the universe, you have a finite amount of energy, and the kids are perpetual motion machines.
One of my brothers became a glassblower. Several of us played guitar. One played cutthroat pool. Everybody drew. I dibsed writing.
We're not just trying to produce a good magazine—we're trying to effect real and important change in the speculative fiction community. If you become a member of the Strange Horizons community, you'll be helping us achieve these goals.
And then the day comes / when the blue comes back. / Birds are dark against it / like words spoken by winter.
