Size / / /

Happy Monday! Below you'll find the third installment in our series of personal essays by Strange Horizons authors discussing what the magazine has meant to them. Enjoy!

***

Some people write poetry. Other people write fairy tales. I write stories about civic infrastructure. About public records; about sewage plants; about local government administration; about how regulations are written; about who regulates the regulators; about how people divide resources in a time of scarcity; about paperwork. Sometimes my stories have magic, other times they have spaceships, but I’m fundamentally preoccupied with bureaucracy.

I am the least cool person alive.

But I am a professional writer, because in 2014 Strange Horizons bought a story of mine that I nearly didn’t submit. It had magic in it, and a friendship, and a lighthouse: but for the most part it was about the infrastructure of the mind, and why that matters. I've since sold another dozen stories on similar themes, including two more to Strange Horizons, and I’m still grateful. Not just for asking me to contribute, nor just for giving me my first pro sale, although they did, but for saying: you’re a weirdo but we like you. Your stories have a place, and so do you.



Iona Datt Sharma is a writer, lawyer and the product of more than one country. Their first short story collection, Not For Use in Navigation, was published in 2019. Their other work can be found at www.generalist.org.uk/iona and they tweet as @singlecrow.
Current Issue
22 Apr 2024

We’d been on holiday at the Shoon Sea only three days when the incident occurred. Dr. Gar had been staying there a few months for medical research and had urged me and my friend Shooshooey to visit.
...
Tu enfiles longuement la chemise des murs,/ tout comme d’autres le font avec la chemise de la mort.
The little monster was not born like a human child, yelling with cold and terror as he left his mother’s womb. He had come to life little by little, on the high, three-legged bench. When his eyes had opened, they met the eyes of the broad-shouldered sculptor, watching them tenderly.
Le petit monstre n’était pas né comme un enfant des hommes, criant de froid et de terreur au sortir du ventre maternel. Il avait pris vie peu à peu, sur la haute selle à trois pieds, et quand ses yeux s’étaient ouverts, ils avaient rencontré ceux du sculpteur aux larges épaules, qui le regardaient tendrement.
We're delighted to welcome Nat Paterson to the blog, to tell us more about his translation of Léopold Chauveau's story 'The Little Monster'/ 'Le Petit Monstre', which appears in our April 2024 issue.
For a long time now you’ve put on the shirt of the walls,/just as others might put on a shroud.
Issue 15 Apr 2024
By: Ana Hurtado
Art by: delila
Issue 8 Apr 2024
Issue 1 Apr 2024
Issue 25 Mar 2024
By: Sammy Lê
Art by: Kim Hu
Issue 18 Mar 2024
Strange Horizons
Issue 11 Mar 2024
Issue 4 Mar 2024
Issue 26 Feb 2024
Issue 19 Feb 2024
Issue 12 Feb 2024
Load More
%d bloggers like this: