Alice Turner, goodbye
Oh, my. I just saw Alice Turner's name up on sff.net. with a flower next to it.
Alice was an editor at Playboy who bought a few stories from me. She really went to bat for me a couple of times.
She once accepted a story, "Graves," but her own managing editor rejected it, saying it was "too gross" for Playboy. Maggots, I think. She tried to sneak it in a year later, but he sent it back with a note saying it was still too gross. So I sent it over to F&SF, with Alice's blessing. Ed Ferman took it, and it went on to win the World Fantasy Award for best fantasy story of the year, and the Nebula as well.
I finished a novelette, "Feedback," just before the World Science Fiction Convention in Chicago. The night before the convention started, we went to the Playboy headquarters for a cocktail party. Alice was there, of course, and I told her I'd just finished a great story, but I wasn't going to send it to her: She'd never printed a story that long unless it was by Norman Mailer or someone, and Playboy wouldn't do a story with a homosexual male protagonist.
"Listen to me, Haldeman," she said, waving a cigarette dangerously close to my eyes. "There's only one person in the world who can tell you what a Playboy story is, and that's me."
She bought it right away, perhaps to prove her point.
She had a keen editorial eye and a marvelous laugh. Gay and I always looked forward to dinner with her whenever we were in New York.
She will be sorely missed.
Joe
Alice was an editor at Playboy who bought a few stories from me. She really went to bat for me a couple of times.
She once accepted a story, "Graves," but her own managing editor rejected it, saying it was "too gross" for Playboy. Maggots, I think. She tried to sneak it in a year later, but he sent it back with a note saying it was still too gross. So I sent it over to F&SF, with Alice's blessing. Ed Ferman took it, and it went on to win the World Fantasy Award for best fantasy story of the year, and the Nebula as well.
I finished a novelette, "Feedback," just before the World Science Fiction Convention in Chicago. The night before the convention started, we went to the Playboy headquarters for a cocktail party. Alice was there, of course, and I told her I'd just finished a great story, but I wasn't going to send it to her: She'd never printed a story that long unless it was by Norman Mailer or someone, and Playboy wouldn't do a story with a homosexual male protagonist.
"Listen to me, Haldeman," she said, waving a cigarette dangerously close to my eyes. "There's only one person in the world who can tell you what a Playboy story is, and that's me."
She bought it right away, perhaps to prove her point.
She had a keen editorial eye and a marvelous laugh. Gay and I always looked forward to dinner with her whenever we were in New York.
She will be sorely missed.
Joe
Published on January 19, 2015 09:08
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