Just got the final table of contents for the Datlow & Windling forthcoming YA dystopian anthology, After.
The Segment by Genevieve Valentine
After the Cure by Carrie Ryan
Valedictorian by N.K. Jemisin
Visiting Nelson by Katherine Langrish
All I Know of Freedom by Carol Emshwiller
The Other Elder by Beth Revis
The Great Game at the End of the World by Matthew Kressel
Reunion by Susan Beth Pfeffer
Faint Heart by Sarah Rees Brennan
Blood Drive by Jeffrey Ford
Reality Girl by Richard Bowes
Hw th’Irth Wint Wrong by Hapless Joey @ homeskool.guv by Gregory Maguire
Rust With Wings by Steven Gould
The Easthound by Nalo Hopkinson
Gray by Jane Yolen
Before by Carolyn Dunn
Fake Plastic Trees by Caitlin R. Kiernan
You Won’t Feel a Thing by Garth Nix
The Marker by Cecil Castellucci
I’ve been writing for almost 30 years. Most of it was crap. I’ve been publishing work for almost 10 years. Some of that is crap, too. But I’m still occasionally — OK, often — painfully aware that I’m just a n00b as these things go. And occasionally — OK, often — I am boggled by just how far I’ve come. It’s not so long ago, after all, that I would never have dreamt of submitting to an anthology like this. Hell, it’s not so long ago that I was terrified to even speak to Ellen Datlow — I mean, I was scared even to say hi, it was that bad — for fear of saying Something Terrible that would instantly scuttle my career. (Somehow.) Imposter Syndrome is not logical. Usually I’m able to fight it off, but sometimes? OK, usually? I look at things like this ToC and think, HOLY FUCKING SHIT. I’M IN A TOC WITH [unintelligible blur of names I never thought I'd say in conjunction with my own name]. And I pinch myself, to see if I’m still awake.
Ow. OK, then.
HOLY FUCKING SHIT.