I note on the ever-interesting blog of Paul McAuley (who wrote the introduction) that this fine collection is now out: edited by Pete Crowther, and containing a wealth of brilliant original fiction. My contribution is called 'Adam Robots' (do you see what I did, there, with the title?) and is one of my better stories, though I do say so myself. And I do. Say so, I mean. Myself. Adam Roboerts.

What else did I do this week? I undertook the uniquely writerly chore of the signing sheet, in this case: receiving a parcel from Ian MacLeod, opening it to find a couple-hundred signing-sheets for Postscripts 17 (in which I have story, called 'A Prison Term of a Thousand Years', about a man who is sent to prison for a thousand years). Those authors whose surnames are prior to mine in the alphabet had signed their slots; I did the same (sign, new sheet, sign, new sheet, and repeat acouplehundred times). Then I parcelled it all up and sent the whole package on to Al Robertson. Good luck to him.

Less repetitive was going through the copy-edit of another story, 'Noose'. for Allen Ashley's forthcoming collection, Catastrophia. It's an end of the world tale. Catastrophic, indeed; although deliberately built around the original sense of the word, 'turning around'. Or 'aboutwheel'. Or 'switchback'. Or 'roundabout'. I particularly like that last word, actually, as a translation of the term.

Also this week I wrote a poem. Now I rarely like the poetry I write, and it is a source of aggravation to me that I can't seem to write good poems; I wish I understood what was preventing me. Still, practice makes perfect, and I am getting, slowly, better at it. For example I quite like this one: it's about a lizard.

Similarly Adam Roberts, in "Petrolpunk" (Extraordinary Engines), is addressing current concerns in an inventive fashion, although his protagonists and the structure of his story are as bewildering as Chiang's are disciplined. We are presented with a world where Victoria's Empire, powered by steam technology, spans the earth. However, this steam is vastly polluting due to a Compound which reduces the boiling temperature of water. So far, so steampunk, but invaders from petrol companies in another Reality want this world's unexploited oil reserves ... and Queen Victoria is immortal. The ride gets wilder as the protagonist—one "Adam Roberts"—descends into mania and his story is wrapped up by "the editor of Nineteenth Century and After"—one "Nick Gevers."

Since I was aiming precisely for the trope of immortality as pollution, I take 'bewildering' as a compliment. Plus, Swiftly gets mentioned, which can only be a plus.

It’s not out just yet, and won't be until September 2007, but I'm pretty thoroughly excited by this, I must say. No cover art as yet, but I'll post it up here as soon as I get a look at it.

One piece of cover art that has come through is for Farah Mendlesohn’s forthcoming collection of stories designed to bait the illiberal and ill-advised governmental legislation making Glorifying Terrorism an offence. Into prison, then, with people celebrating George Washington, Nelson Mandela, Gandhi or Boudica; starting with Alan Moore for V for Vendetta.

I got a chance to read the stories for this collection when I was sent the pdf of the whole thing in order to proof-read my contribution; and I can say that my piece is the least amongst a number of very strong reasons to buy this book when it comes out, amongst them pieces by: Ken Macleod; Gwyneth Jones; Hal Duncan; Charles Stross and Suzette Haden Elgin. You really need to get hold of this anthology, believe me. Start placing advance orders now. I command you.