I've always wanted to see the stars. Not just look up at the night sky with its scattering of light-pollution sparkles, but really see the stars. To stand on the edge of space and watch those billions of particles lacing and colliding and exploding with fantastic fusion. I want to be awed by the sight of my home planet from space. I want to sweep through the wings of a giant nebula. I want to live.
Maybe I was born out of my time. Or maybe my time is fantastic, and new stars and hopes and planets and dreams will be born beneath my fingers.
I am a science fiction writer. I say that cautiously, as no one really wants a label and those who do deserve them. I am one who paints, with words and feelings, pictures of the Universe. I live a thousand lives among the stars.
Maybe some day I will see my home planet from space. It would be an honor beyond compare. But meanwhile, I will tell my tales of grand adventure and tragedy and triumph, and I will imagine...because the Universe inside is hardly less rich or real than the Universe Out There.
