High Cotton:

Selected stories of Joe R. Lansdale

For Karen, Keith and Kasey,

years of mental madness consigned to paper.

Foreword

GROWING UP IN EAST TEXAS, I KNEW EARLY ON that I wanted to be a professional writer, even though I wasn't exactly sure what a professional writer was. I began to write stories at a very early age. Perhaps as early as seven, though I can't be certain of that, as family stories vary. I know that when I was nine I was seriously trying to understand how stories were told, and I even put together a book of stories, poems, and my interpretations of Greek and Norse myths. I also included, for some unknown reason, the ancient Greek alphabet that I had copied out of an encyclopedia.

When I was old enough to sort of understand what a writer did to make a living, and I began to entertain the idea seriously, I thought that I would be a science fiction writer. I read all the time, and not just science fiction, but there was a time in my life where science fiction — and keep in mind I lumped fantasy, horror, science fantasy, weird adventure, ghost stories, anything odd, under that label — was my main source of reading matter, coupled with supposedly non-fiction books about things like flying saucers, Big Foot, ghost, and Fortean activity.

When I finally began to write a true novel, it was in the Edgar Rice Burroughs vein. Somewhere, I hope, those efforts still exist. They are either in the library where my work is kept, or in my study, or, heaven forbid, I may have destroyed them. I remember thinking about it. I feel sentimental about those old pieces, and about ten years ago, when I last saw them, I took them out and was surprised to find they weren't really too bad, considering a kid, not even teenage yet, had written them.

But they were never finished. They just sort of went on and on in composition notebooks, but I didn't know how to reach a peak in the books, and then wrap them up. When I began to write novels with serious intent in my mid-twenties, I discovered I still hadn't learned that trick. The idea of novels became daunting. I decided I'd write something shorter, and in my mind easier, so I turned to short stories.



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