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"Water, Water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink."

- Rime of the Ancient Mariner



Over the years, I have often thought of these lines from the Rime of the Ancient Mariner. PBM fits those words to a tee - and in a variety of different ways.

But, I'm not here, today, to try and explain all of those different ways that play by mail gaming is like water. No, today I am merely sharing a few thoughts aloud, as they come to me. This cupboard has been fairly bare, of late, so rather than reserve all of my harvest of words for the magazine - Suspense & Decision, I choose, instead, to plop a few down over here in the forum.

It's like stepping on dead, dried leaves. It's been so quiet here, of late, that most anything that any of us post legitimately qualifies as noise.

This morning has been fairly busy for me, as far as the magazine goes. Suspense & Decision may have suffered the indignity of a year long flat tire, but I sure seem to be spending a lot of time on it the last few days - and especially this morning.

But, that's good news, right?

Maybe somebody, somewhere missed the magazine, because stuff keeps on dropping into my e-mail in-box, today. Multiple gaming communities within the PBM and lineal descendants enclaves have sent something my way for Issue #11.

I suffer under no delusions, though. This small stream signals the break of the year long drought, but it can dry up at any time, leaving future issues struggling for such kind and attentive benevolence. Perhaps absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all, eh?

Or, maybe not

Regardless, we forge ahead! Oblivious are we to what Fate has wrought for our tomorrows, but unto the breach, once more, is our rallying cry of the moment.

During the course of the relatively small amount of time when I began writing this editorial to the end of the last sentence prior to this one, I was interrupted several times by the influx of e-mails for stuff pertaining to Issue #11. Whether articles or ads, it all equates to interest - interest by other people in our magazine and its audience.

If every day was like today, then I could publish an issue every week.

Cross-pollination, I think that they call it. That's what this all is, an exercise in cross-pollination. Not all of play by mail's bees bother with it or believe in it, though.

And that, my fair and my foul weather bees, alike, is to the detriment of our collective cause.

Honestly, if I told you that you stood at the precipice of something great, of something truly incredible, I really have my doubts that very many - if any - of you would dare to take my words at face value and simply believe me. But, from where I stand, I can see it as plain as day, now. The precipice edge that I stand at allows me to see for some distance, off into the Great Blue of Yonder.

To be certain, we still have a long and grueling march ahead of us, and the older guys amongst us like Rick McDowell might just give out of breath before we make it to where we are going, but far, far below us - way on down below the Clouds of the Internet that obscure our vision, forces are gathering.

Forces of Change!

You are each free to believe what you want to, of course. As for me? I'm marching on!

Barring death or health issues, Issue #11 will publish on time.

Period!