I hate writing about myself, that is just the way I am. But, you need a little background to understand the stories I write.
I served with Captain Paxton during the Great War. We were in France when he lost his legs. That explosion should have killed us both.
Some years later, I met him again in the States. After he had a few drinks, he began to tell me about his great adventures on a far away planet called Barsoom. At first, I thought he had lost his mind. I thought the explosion and losing his legs had driven him crazy.
But, I could not believe my friend had gone that crazy. And something about his story rang true.
So, I challenged him. “If your adventures are true, then take me with you,” I asked.
He looked at me and said, “Only if you promise to record my story for me.”
And that is how I became a traveler of Barsoom. And a writer.
As the good Captain says, “You can always find a storm in a tea-cup, but it will never compare to watching the storms of Mars. When those storms come raging towards you, it is always best to be at the poles, or in one of the great canyons. Ah, a storm that is 3 times the size of Texas. Now that my friend is a real storm.”
It was over time that I became a writer, reluctantly a writer. Mostly, I was along for the adventure.
How little the world seems when we call it ‘Mars.’ Yes, it is a planet of wars, and gods. But, Barsoom is a regal name, not a name borrowed from some long forgotten religion of the Romans.
Barsoom is a name of the here and now, or so it always seemed. Over time, I realized that our portal was taking us across space, and back in time. Over time, I could not stand to be away from my beloved Barsoom, nor could the good Captain.
Well, this is just a short piece to explain why I began to write.
Until we meet again, I bid you ‘adieu.’