![]() ![]() Burroughs, for some reason, never published. The manuscript appears to be another one of those stories that Mr. You have to decide for yourself whether or not you wish to believe this. A cottage that once belonged to captain John Carter of Virginia, and later, after Carter's demise, by his nephew Edgar Rice Burroughs.īurroughs of course is best remembered for his stories in which he claimed his late uncle was in fact alive and well, and lived on the planet Mars. The story as presented here has been adapted from a manuscript found during the demolition of a small cottage near the Hudson River. The Shadow Over Barsoom Sander the Panthan It deals with some of the unresolved plots from the books, like what became of the cruel Jed Ghron of Ghasta (his fate was not disclosed in A Fighting Man of Mars) and what happened to Tan Hadron and Fo-Nar after they where captured by the mutinous crew of the Dusar. The story is set between the end of Skeleton Men of Jupiter and the first story from the Tales of the Morgor War project, to which I intend to contribute as well should my first story be accepted for publication. I also borrowed elements from the stories "Allan and the Sundered Veil" by Alan Moore (like the idea of John Carter and Randolph Carter being related, and having met before) and "Mars the Home Front" by George Alec Effinger. The story is a cross-over between the Barsoom novels and the Cthulhu Mythos stories featuring the charcter Randolph Carter. Kaor! And I’ll see you all on Barsoom one day."A new tale of Barsoom from the pen of Sander the Panthan (a pseudonym for a talented Dutch writer) who knows the fourth planet. Which is pretty much all any of us can hope for, when you get right down to it. So, in the end, here I am where I longed to be. You’d think a boy would get the hint by now, but it was third-time lucky for me, and we moved on out to our “country estate,” sometimes referred to in the forewords to my eBooks as the Barking Spider Ranch. Somewhere in there, as the 1980s passed into the 1990s, and then on into the 21st century, I married again, divorced again, and married for a third time. My novelette “Age of Aquarius” was nominated for the Hugo Award, and novel Acts of Conscience received a Special Citation of Excellence from the Philip K. More books followed, both in collaboration and solo, and I began to write increasingly for the science fiction magazines. Somewhere toward the end of that decade, boyhood chum Michael Capobianco and I wrote an ambitious science fiction novel named Iris. It was, and I swiftly moved on to a new career as a computer programmer, working for a variety of companies and eventually hanging out my shingle as a free-lance software architect. In the 1980s, cheap computers came along, and I bought one, thinking it might be an interesting hobby. I spent several years as a single parent, which was perhaps a more worthwhile education than the one I tried to get around the same time as a part-time student at the University of New Hampshire. ![]() During that time, I married, we had a kid, and after a while, were divorced. In the 1970s, after I dropped out of NVCC, I wrote more books and stories, but mainly I worked at a series of increasingly challenging jobs as what amounted to a mechanical engineering technician, ending up as a marine machinery mechanic at Portsmouth Naval Shipyard. Imagine the surprise of my hard-working friends, who graduated from their universities and became computer programmers, used-car salesmen, and postal carriers. It was while there that I composed a novella called Hunting On Kunderer, which I sold to Ace Books. When that failed to happen, for lack of anything better to do, I enrolled in the Liberal Arts curriculum at Northern Virginia Community College. Pretty soon, those stories began to take shape on paper, and some of us got the idea we could grow up to be what we called “authors.” Eventually, I finished high school, graduating in the bottom tenth of my class.Īfter high school, my friends, who studied harder than I did, went away to college, and I waited to be whisked away to Vietnam with all the other lazy boys. As we tramped among the trees and waded through the creeks, we role-played stories from the books we read, and in due course, began making up worlds of our own, on which stories could be told. I grew up as slowly as slowly as possible, reading science fiction, fantasy, and historical novels and wandering around the woods with a cadre of friends who were more or less interested in those same things. My father was in college, studying to be a geologist, and my mother was working in an ice cream parlor. The Korean Police Action was under way, and Edgar Rice Burroughs had only recently left California for Barsoom. I was born in Boston, Massachusetts, on September 28, 1950.
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