John M. Ford
Sep. 25th, 2006 07:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellenkushnerI'm scouring LJ for news of and reactions to John M. Ford's passing - see ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elisem,papersky and wild_irises - I wish I'd gotten in early enough to post a simple, shocked "No comment" and let it go at that. But that would be disingenuous at this point. I was a junior editor at Pocket Books working with David G. Hartwell on the Timescape line, when Mike published his very first novel there, and got to know him well then - my roommates & I encouraged him to leave the stifling Midwest where he was working as an orderly in a nursing home or something, and come to New York to try his wings. He lived in our apartment for some time, and housesat for us when we were away. He had the most extraordinary handwriting: an elegant italic, from which flowers grew. I am very sorry that the hordes of people who fell in love with him for his online posts never got to experience his words as they were pre-computer: the arrival of an envelope with close pages of lined paper filled with that hand . . . .
elisem,papersky and wild_irises - I wish I'd gotten in early enough to post a simple, shocked "No comment" and let it go at that. But that would be disingenuous at this point. I was a junior editor at Pocket Books working with David G. Hartwell on the Timescape line, when Mike published his very first novel there, and got to know him well then - my roommates & I encouraged him to leave the stifling Midwest where he was working as an orderly in a nursing home or something, and come to New York to try his wings. He lived in our apartment for some time, and housesat for us when we were away. He had the most extraordinary handwriting: an elegant italic, from which flowers grew. I am very sorry that the hordes of people who fell in love with him for his online posts never got to experience his words as they were pre-computer: the arrival of an envelope with close pages of lined paper filled with that hand . . . .