Poul sends me a copy of his essay, 'On Thud and Blunder', to ensure the realism of the setting, particularly the economic structure of the town. He also wants to know about the judicial system in Sanctuary.
Andy wants to know about the deities worshipped, preferably broken down by nationality and economic class of worshippers. Fortunately, he includes a proposed set of gods, which I gleefully copy and send to the other contributors. He heads his ten-page letters with 'To Colossus: The Asprin Project'. It occurs to me that with his own insight as an anthology editor, this could be more truth than humour.
To make my job a little easier, some of the authors start playing poker with their character sketches: 'I won't show you mine till you show me yours.' They delay submitting their sketches until they see what the other authors turn in. One of these is Gordy. Remember him? He's the one who got me into this in the first place. He's the one who 'had his character' before there was an anthology! Terrific!'
John Brunner submits his story - a full year before the stated deadline. So much for transatlantic delays. I haven't gotten all the character descriptions yet. More important, I haven't gotten the advance money yet! His agent begins to prod gently for payment.
Roger reappraises his time commitments and withdraws from the project. Oh, well. You can't win them all.
Poul wants to know about the architectural style of Sanctuary.
Andy and Poul want to know about the structure and nationality of names.
A call comes in from Ace. Jim Baen wants the manuscript a full three months ahead of the contracted deadline. I point out that this is impossible - the new deadline would give me only two weeks between receiving the stories from the authors and submitting the complete manuscript to New York. If I encountered difficulties with any of the stories or if any of the submissions came in late, it would disrupt the schedule completely. They point out that if I can meet the new schedule, they'll make it their lead book for the month it's released. The avaricious side of me is screaming, but I stick to my guns and repeat that it's impossible to guarantee. They offer a contract for a second Thieves' World anthology, suggesting that if a couple of stories are late, I can include them in the next book. Under attack now both from my publisher and my own greedy nature, I roll my eyes heavenward, swallow hard, and agree.
A new note is rapidly dispatched to the contributors, politely reminding them of the approaching deadline. Also included is Gordy's character sketch for Jamie the Red which he had finally submitted under mild duress (his arm will heal eventually).
Andy calls and wants to know the prince's name. I haven't given it any thought, but am willing to negotiate. An hour later, I hang up. It occurs to me that I haven't written my story yet.
Gordy notifies me that he can't get his story done in time for the first book. Terrific! With Gordy and Roger both out of the first volume, it's starting to look a little short.
Andy's story comes in, as does Joe's and Poul's.
Andy's story includes a discussion with Joe's One-Thumb character. Joe has killed One-Thumb off in his story. A minor sequencing problem.
Poul's story has Cappen Varra going off on an adventure with Gordy's Jamie the Red. Gordie's Jamie the Red story won't be in the first book! A major sequencing problem! Oh, well. I owe Gordy one for talking me into editing this monster.
I look at the stories already in the bin and decide that the first draft of my story needs some drastic rewriting.
A note arrives from Phil Farmer. He had sent me a letter months ago, which apparently never arrived, withdrawing from the project. (It hadn't!) Realizing that withdrawing at this late date would leave me in a bad spot, he is now rearranging his writing schedule in order to send me 'something'. Of course, it will be a little late. I am grateful, but panicky.
Lynn finishes her story and starts to gloat. I threaten to beat her head in with my Selectric.
Ace calls again. They want additional information for the cover copy. They also want a word count. I explain the situation as calmly as I can. Half-way through my explanation, the phone melts.
Ma Bell fixes my phone in record time (I am rapidly becoming their favourite customer), and I hurriedly call Marion to ask for a rough word-count on her unsubmitted story. She tells me she sent me a letter which must not have arrived. (It didn't.) She tells me she'll have to withdraw from the project because of time pressures in her other writing commitments. She tells me to stop gibbering and say something. I calm myself and explain I'd really like to have a story from her. I explain I really need her story. I mention that her character is on the cover of the book. She observes that the water gushing from the phone is threatening to flood her living room and agrees to try to squeeze the story into her writing schedule ... before she flies to London in two weeks.
With steady hand but trembling mind, I call Ace and ask for Jim Baen. I explain the situation: I have six stories in hand (yes, I finally finished mine) and two more on the way ... a little late ... maybe. He informs roe that with just six stories the book will be too short. He wants at least one more story and an essay from me about how much fun it was to edit the anthology. To calm my hysterics, he suggests I commission a back-up story in case the two en route don't arrive in time. I point out that there are only two weeks remaining before the deadline. He concedes that with such a limited time-frame, I probably won't be able to get a story from a 'name' author. He'll let me work with an 'unknown', but the story had better be good!
Christine DeWees is a kindly, white-haired grandmother who rides a Harley and wants to be a writer. Lynn and I have been criticizing her efforts for some time and have repeatedly encouraged her to submit something to an editor. So far, she has resisted our proddings, insisting that she would be embarrassed to show her work to a professional editor. I decide to kill two birds with one stone.
In my most disarming 'nothing can go wrong' tones, I give my spiel to Christine and pass her a Thieves' World package. Three hours later, my phone rings. Christine loves the character ofMyrtis, the madam of the Aphrodisia House and is ready to do a story centring around her. I stammer politely and point out that Myrtis is one of Marion's characters and that she might object to someone else writing her characters. Christine cackles and tells me she's already cleared it with Marion (don't ask me how she got the phone number!), and everything is effervescent. Two days later, she hands me the story, and I still haven't gotten around to looking up 'effervescent' in the dictionary.
With seven stories now in hand, I declare Thieves' World I to be complete and begin writing my 'fun fun' essay. The stories from Marion and Phil can wait until the second book.
Then Marion's story arrives.
Marion's story interfaces so nicely with Christine's that I decide to use them both in the first book. Rather than cut one of the • other stories, the volume is assembled with intros, maps, eight stories, and essay, crated, and shipped off to New York.
Endo volume one! Print it!
The whole whirlwind process of editing this monster child was only vaguely as I had imagined it would be. Still, in hindsight, I loved it. With all the worries and panics, the skyhigh phone bills and the higher bar bills, I loved every minute. I find myself actually looking forward to the next volume ... and that's what worries me!