Leigh Brackett - Sea Kings of Mars

And Otherwordly Stories

LEIGH BRACKETT

Fantasy Masterworks Volume 46

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With special thanks to Jo Fletcher, Malcolm Edwards, Gillian Rcdfearn, Hugh Lamb, Ralph Vicinanza, Ray Bradbury, Alexandra Bradbury, Randy Broecker, Jay Broecker, Val and Les Edwards, John and Kathy Pelan, Mike Ashley, Martin Trouse, Erik Arthur, Ted Ball and Bob Wardzinski.

Map of Leigh Brackett's Mars copyright Dave Senior 2005, from a map prepared by Margaret M. Howes.

'Introduction: Letting My Imagination Go' copyright Jonathan Bacon 1976. A version of this was originally published as part of 'Return to Wonder' by Leigh Brackett and Edmond Hamilton in Fantasy Crossroads, May 1976.

'The Sorcerer of Rhiannon' copyright Street & Smith Publications, Inc. 1942. Originally published in Astounding, February 1942.

'The Jewel of Bas' copyright Love Romances Publishing Company, Inc. 1944. Originally published in Planet Stories, Spring 1944.

'Terror out of Space' copyright Romances Publishing Company, Inc. 1944. Originally published in Planet Stories, Summer 1944.

'Lorelei of the Red Mist' copyright Romances Publishing Company, Inc. 1946. Originally published in Planet Stories, Summer 1946. Reprinted by permission of Ray Bradbury and his agents, Abner Stein and Son Congdon Associates, Inc.

'The Moon that Vanished' copyright Standard Magazines, Inc. 1948. Originally published in Thrilling Wonder Stories, June 1949.

'Sea Kings of Mars' copyright Standard Magazines, Inc. 1949. Originally published in Thrilling Wonder Stories, June 1949.

'Queen of the Martian Catacombs' copyright Love Romances Publishing Company, Inc. 1949. Originally published in Planet Stories, Summer 1949.

'Enchantress of Venus' copyright Love Romances Publishing Company, Inc. 1949. Originally published in Planet Stories, Fall 1949.

'Black Amazon of Mars' copyright Love Romances Publishing Company, Inc. 1951. Originally published in Planet Stories, March 1951.

'The Last Days of Shandakor' copyright Better Publications, Inc. 1952. Originally published in Startling Stories, April 1951.

The Tweener' copyright Fantasy House, Inc. 1955. Originally published in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, February 1955.

'The Road to Sinharat' copyright Ziff-Davis Publishing Company 1963. Originally published in Amazing Stories, May 1963.

'Afterword: The Enchantress of Worlds' copyright Stephen Jones 2005.

Letting My Imagination Go

I became a writer because, I suppose, I couldn't help myself. From earliest childhood I had a compulsive desire to fill up blank pages in copybooks. When I was seven or eight, I wrote a sequel to a Douglas Fairbanks film because I wanted more and there wasn't any infantile scribbling on odd bits of paper, but still, a beginning. At thirteen, I made a mature, reasoned decision to be a professional writer. Ten years later I sold my first story.

I got into fantasy and science fiction partly because, at a very early age, someone gave me a copy of Burroughs' The Gods of Mars and my entire life was changed. I watch the films of Apollo flights with my heart in my throat, and remember how long ago on a Venice beach I quarrelled furiously with my grandfather about space-flight, he saying it was impossible and could never be (What would they push against?), and I stamping my foot and yelling, 'But they will, they will!' And they have. And I think this has been the single greatest thrill of my life, having dreamed of space flight and having seen it come true.

In the beginning of my writing career, I tried my hand at nearly everything and failed miserably; I hadn't enough experience of writing, or anything else, to compete in the adventure field for instance. I had been advised to try this market or that market, but not science fiction because there wasn't much money there. Finally, I decided I was going to do what I wanted to do, which was to write fantasy and science fiction, where I could really let my imagination go, even if I starved to death. I still had a lot to learn, but at least I was on the right track.

Henry Kuttner was at that time doing work for the Laurence D'Orsay Literary Agency, and he went far beyond the call of duty in criticising my manuscripts, offering help and suggestions, patiently getting me over the hurdles. I am sure that because of Hank I sold my first story much sooner that I would have done otherwise. It was also Hank who introduced me to the wonderful world of fandom, in particular the Los Angeles Science-Fiction Society. Actually, I met Edmund Hamilton and Jack Williamson through our mutual agent, Julius Schwartz, and a mutual editor, Mort Weisinger. But over the years LASFS figured as a friendly meeting place and it was there I came to know Ray Bradbury.

We used to meet every Sunday afternoon at the beach and read each other's manuscripts, sitting in the sun with the smell of frying hamburgers, dreaming furiously. I don't know who gave whom the most help, though Ray has generously given me more credit than I think I deserve; it was more or less mutual, I believe, and the wonderful thing about it was having another nut-case to talk to: we science fiction writers and readers were pretty well isolated in those days, when the average person considered the whole thing suitable only for the mentally retarted.

I began to branch out into the crime and suspense field and finally felt bold enough to do a full-length novel. This was No Good from a Corpse, published in '44. A friend of mine in a Beverly Hills bookstore saw to it that the book was in a stack of thrillers he sold to Howard Hawks. The first thing I knew, I was working for Mr Hawks on The Big Sleep, teamed with William Faulkner.

At that time I had an order for a novel (20,000 words!) from Planet Stories. I had written exactly 10,000 words, or one-half of the story. When this heaven-sent job in the flicks dropped out of the blue, I asked Ray Bradbury if he would like to finish the yarn because I wouldn't have time. He said yes, and forthwith did so, without any outline or a stitch of anything to go on except the first 10,000 words.

The result was 'Lorelei of the Red Mist', one-half pure Brackett, one-half pure Bradbury. I have heard all sorts of theories about how I did the action bits and he did the poetry, etc. Not so. It was not even a collaboration in the ordinary sense. Ray simply pitched in and turned out a beautiful job.

I was overawed to be working with William Faulkner (although, despite American Lit. professors and critics, I had always found him quite unreadable). In the event, we had very little contact in working, since we did alternate sections of the book with a minimum of conferring. He was punctilious, polite, unfailingly courteous, and as remote as the moon: a closed-in, closed-up, lonely man, driven by some dark inner devil. I suppose it is no secret to anyone that he would vanish sometimes for days while his loyal friends - and he had them - would front for him at the studio, seek him out, take care of him, and get him back on his feet again. Everybody pretended not to notice. Apart from these absences, he worked hard, worked long hours and proved to be remarkably good on construction.

As to his dialogue, he was famous as the writer who had never had one line of dialogue actually spoken by an actor. It was, quite simply, unreadable, and it was all changed on the set ... not by me, by Mr Hawks and Bogey, both of whom were/are pretty good at it.