Author * Traveler * Lingerie Critic
Ever see anything so God-damned ugly in all your life?
Who Is William Sanders?
A question frequently asked in certain circles. Well, actually the wording tends to be more along the lines of, "Who the hell does William Sanders think he is?" . . . but never mind that.
One sort of answer might be: "William 'Sundown' Sanders is a 70-year-old redbone hillbilly who lives in Tahlequah, Oklahoma, in a little old rock house, along with his wife Phyllis, a manic Jack Russell terrier, and a cat with an exaggerated sense of entitlement. He rides around on an unreasonably fast motorcycle and does not own a car. He used to drink like a manta ray but then he had to quit, his liver having become eligible for admission to the UN. Sometimes he fools with guns. At other times he attempts to play various musical instruments. It is not clear which is a greater menace - "
Or I could define myself by what I do: I am a writer. Rather a retired writer, of books and stories and occasional other literary efforts. That was all I did, occupation-wise, for about thirty years. In that time I published a score of books and numerous short works, won a couple of awards and got nominated for several others, drew a certain amount of critical attention, and (I'd like to think) wrote a few things that a few people enjoyed reading.
I've been best known for speculative fiction (aka SF; not "sci-fi", please); but I've also done mysteries and suspense thrillers and various other things, including straight history. I put this in for the benefit of those who consider categories and classifications important. Details of My Literary Career can be found in the following pages, along with various other items of possible relevancy; see the menu below.
The time came, however, when I decided to hang it up. The fine people of the Social Security system had begun sending these nice checks each month, and I proposed to spend my Sunset Years basically just screwing around. Doing some more traveling, as long as that remained possible in our increasingly insane world. Catching up on my reading. Watching the young ladies of the nearby college campus. Whatever.
And for a time that was what I did, living the life of a recovering author. Then for a time I returned to the world of speculative fiction, no longer as a Nauthor, but now as a Neditor. Together with a coalition of friends and colleagues, I had the honor of starting and running a remarkable magazine called Helix, which got quite a bit of notice for a couple of years before for various reasons we chose to execute that literary process characterized by Aristotle in his Poetics as "pissing on the fire and calling in the dogs."
So here I am, taking a second shot at the retirement lifestyle, and hoping this time to make it stick. All I want is to spend the few remaining years with my dear wife, here in our home, just like any other couple of plain, ordinary folks dedicated to the return of the Elder Gods and the total extinction of all carbon-based life forms.
Still, I'm leaving this website up, for a time anyway; it was hell's own lot of work building it, after all. Feel free, then, to wander about and peruse whatever takes your fancy.
(And buy my books, for God's sake. You think I run this site just because I love you and want to make you happy? Buy my God-damned books.)
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