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Copyright Theodore Sturgeon Literary Trust
The symbol of the Q with an arrow through it was used by Sturgeon in his signature after the mid-1970s. He also wore it as a necklace. The symbol appears on the Theodore Sturgeon Memorial award for the year's best science ficiton story, given at the Center for Science Fiction.
I'm 28 years old (or will be when this is published) and the man I'm writing about is more than twice my age. And when I was just half this age, 14, it occurs to me now, I was at a party on the 14th floor of the Pick-Congress Hotel in Chicago at about five in the morning, the last night of my first science fiction convention, and Judith Merril, famed anthologist and author/editor of some of my favorite books, turned to me and asked -- just about everyone but me had consumed a fair quantity of alcohol by this time --"Doesn't it bother you to see that your heroes have feet of clay." And I said, "They couldn't be heroes if they didn't," or some such clever 14-year-old remark. Then the sun came up over Lake Michigan while the drunk science fiction writers told stories and sang folk songs, and I was indeed filled with quiet awe -- not at the great names made flesh around me, but at whatever miracles had brought me, at age 14, to this inner sanctum, this place of dreams.
Theodore Sturgeon was Guest of Honor at that particular science fiction convention (Labor Day Weekend, 1962), and I shook his hand but didn't actually talk with him. He had his wife and his children with him, and was very much the center of attention wherever he went in the convention hall, and anyway I had nothing to say; I loved the man and I loved his stories and there was no way I could tell him that.
Fourteen years later I visit his home, we talk about anything and everything, I enjoy his hospitality and see his feet of clay -- we've been friends of a sort for two or three years now -- and each time I read a story of his he is again my favorite writer, a worker of miracles; but in between times he's just a friend, attractive and annoying and as blind as the rest of us...... To write this story I need a hero, because this is a story of great achievements. But even after months of careful research, the man slips away from me, he's too human -- I know him and his life so well but I still can't understand where his miracles come from.Read More ->