The Warlord of Saturn's Moons
I decided on the way in to work this morning that I was in danger of turning into the central character of Eleanor Arnason's story "The Warlord of Saturn's Moons" - a whimsical/satirical portrait of the SF writer as a reclusive spinster lady with teapot, cats, and a passion for her male lead. I thought (as I tramped past the Parliament buildings): I really ought to get out more.
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