It was in 1995 that I published (Macmillan) three short stories, in a book titled Tom, Babette and Simon. I have no clear memory of how the book came about, or why or when I wrote the stories. But I do believe that the first of the stories I wrote was Simon, composed (I think) fifty years ago.
In time Tom, Babette and Simon went out of print.
Then, in 2006, another editor came upon the book, and wanted to reissue it but with the edition of two more stories. Accordingly, I wrote Curious, and The Shoemaker and Old Scratch, which were included in the revised book. The collection also gained a new title, Strange Happenings. It was published by Harcourt, which not long after was sold to another publisher, Houghton Mifflin, so the book stayed in print but now came under the Clarion label.
Houghton Mifflin merged into HarperCollins but the book stayed in print under the Clarion imprint.
More than a year ago, a Clarion editor told me that HarperCollins wished to reissue the book but with an additional short story, and have the book illustrated.
Would I write another story?
I said, “Yes.”
Though I find them hard to write, I like writing short stories. There is something deeply satisfying about writing a good one. The language is tight, the narrative must be always to the point, revealing, with characters that have to be instantly grasped. There is no room for glitches. Overall, the emotional impact of a good short story, I think, is bigger than the story itself. To express it in metaphor, it is like a small light which illuminates a large space.
But while I agreed to write a new short story, I was not sure what it should be. It was my wife who said, “What about that novel you wrote? You know, the one which you said you never got right. Do you remember that?”
I certainly did.
About twenty years ago there were a flurry of scary stories for young people written by the likes of Chrisopher Pike and R. L. Stine. At the time, I wondered if I could write a novel that was truly scary but one without any violence. That was the task I set for myself. Accordingly, I wrote a draft and called the novel Fear.
I sent it to my agent, whose response was that it was too frightful, but passed it to my editor, Richard Jackson. He said it would be unwise to publish it. “It’s too scary. Be bad for your reputation.”
I put it aside, although now and then I dragged out and worked on it, doing lots of rewriting until it became a kind of a hobby. There was something about the story that held me. But too frustrated, I put it away. For good, I thought.
After some six years went by, Dick Jackson unexpectedly called me and said, “I have been thinking about that novel. That scary one. Maybe now is the time to publish it.”
“It’s quite different.”
“Let me see what you’ve done.”
Big problem. I wrote that book on my old computer, the kind that used diskettes. Moreover, I had moved. If I had saved that diskette, I had no idea where it was.
After lots of (cluttered) basement searching, I found it. But the diskette technology did not work on my current PC.
I found a technician who could convert that diskette to a new format.
With text in hand, I once again set about rewriting it.
Alas, by the time I thought Fear was truly done, Richard Jackson had sadly passed away.
Now and again, I kept rewriting. At some point I showed it to a few trusted readers. None of them thought the book worked. Writers need honest friends.
I put it away, telling myself no more revisions.
Then came Clarion’s request for a new short story, and my wife’s suggestion to revamp that old novel.
Using bits from the old plot elements, the physical environment of the novel, as well as aspects of the characters, I turned it into a short story.
My editor liked it. “Really creepy,” she said. “A good story.”
And that’s how after twenty years Eels came to be part of Strange Happenings, with six stories.
Overall, the new edition has been fifty years in the making, along with three publishers, and three editors.
If that is not a strange story, I do not know what it is.
Strange Happenings. Six Spine-tingling Stories.
Long in the writing. Nonetheless, short stories.
Hope you enjoy them.