Gracia is not able to find a breadcrumb because it was never baked.

I first read science fiction in the old British Chum annual when I was about 12 years old.

It’s difficult for me to feel that a solid page without the breakups of paragraphs can be interesting. I break mine up perhaps sooner than I should in terms of the usage of the English language.

The encouragement I got from Campbell was a quick check and praise. Once the Space Beagle was launched on its mission, it seemed natural for it to breed additional thoughts.

I don’t recall having any self-awareness about the intricacy of my stories

Chum was a British boy’s weekly which, at the end of the year was bound into a single huge book; and the following Christmas parents bought it as Christmas presents for male children.

In a sense, there’s a great truth to that, but, also I was a great reader.

Recruiting Station was a story that came as the result of many anxious awakenings during many nights.

You have to remember that I was a bright but simple fellow from Canada who seldom, if ever, met another writer, and then only a so-called literary type that occasionally sold a story and meanwhile worked in an office for a living.

My theory was that what I had to do was make a study of human behavior.

It came about as follows: over the years when I was involved in dianetics, I wrote the beginnings of many stories. I would get an idea, and then write the beginning, and then never touch it again.

Science fiction is a field of writing where, month after month, every printed word implies to hundreds of thousands of people: ‘There is change. Look, today’s fantastic story is tomorrow’s fact.

I had casually rented an apartment that cost $75 a month because I expected my writing to pay my way.