Thomas Erikson

I am a lover of words used well. I love to know --- the sweep, grit, and odd corners of history; the chemistry of dreams, the design of fish scales, and what, again, are time crystals? What is daily life like today in Accra, or . . . ? At heart, I am a poet and a counter-puncher. But you gotta make a living. I have spent all of my career in publishing, working at and running newspapers and magazines in cities big and small up and down the West Coast. My modest personal publishing history includes poetry in Portland Review, a Poe/Dupin locked room mystery in Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine, sci-fi non-fiction and book reviews for small publications, and my novel "Tortuga -- A Confection of Blood and Gold." And there is more in the pipeline. Trivia: I once shared drinks with William Burroughs and some friends in a back booth of The West End Bar. I once buttonholed Ursula Le Guin in the aisle of a Portland bookstore. Relying on a tenuous connection to her daughter, I asked her advice for a novice author who wanted to write erotic science fiction. She told me, instead, to read Philip K. Dick and start with "Ubik." I once interviewed s.f. author Ben Bova, then editor of Omni magazine, for an alternative weekly. His face fell when I brought out his first novel to autograph. "When was the last time you read this?" "Twelve." "Thought so." He smiled thinly and wrote a nice dedication. I once started to ask Tom McGuane a question during a Q&A, but a friend next to me jumped in first. He never looked back our way. I wanted to request "Tell us about your father." I once saw the King of Spain sneak out an unmarked door on the north side of the Waldorf-Astoria. I once descended 400 feet with Jacques Costeau . . . in an elevator. He was the healthiest looking man I have ever seen. When I opened my first acceptance letter I felt happiness rush hot from my torso up into my throat, brain, out my eyes. You know the comparison. I once was the winning jockey in an elephant race.