In conversation with a fellow science fiction writer a few days ago (Nov. 2020) I realized I actually had my debut as a science fiction writer at age 11-12-13:
A tabloid, most likely BT or Ekstrabladet, made a competition for something extraordinary (in the realms of the fantastic, as I recall) towards winning movie tickets, so I wrote a short story about seeing an UFO, which won me the tickets and the story printed in the paper.
When I was bombarded by requests from UFO-logists and UFO magazines to please assess the inclination on the night sky of the moving dots and their direction and compass orientation, I felt shameful and tossed the lot. I had no qualms about fabricating events to tell my parents or class mates, though, but more than 10 years passed before I felt comfortable making up events in writing.
Over the years I have killed off lots of ideas, even before putting a letter to paper: Once a sequence of functional thought is read, it is out in the open, to parafrase Clive Barker, taking on a life of its own, hard to rein in.
A tough lesson, that one. Writing stories today, for me is about creating a closed environment for darkness to test the waters, so a reader can decide the temptation. I may be angry, but I am no sadist.
– Kenneth Krabat, November 2020
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