Introduction 2 — Mike Resnick
So let me tell you a little bit about this remarkable semi-young man named Brad Torgersen.
The first time I ever met him, or even knew of his existence, was when I handed him a trophy at the 2010 Writers of the Future Pageant. He was wearing a sharp-looking military dress uniform—not the kind jerks who have never been in the military piece together to impress girls (who are rarely impressed)— but a legitimate one with his rank and medals. We spent quite some time visiting that weekend, and he impressed me not only with this intelligence but also with his eagerness to learn everything he could about the field, and I mentally marked him as a talent to watch.
A few months later I got an assignment for an anthology of military science fiction. I remembered the man and the uniform, and I offered to collaborate with him. He did a powerful first draft, which required some rewriting, and we sold it and enjoyed some very positive reviews.
A couple of more assignments came in that played to his expertise—let me correct it: this small area of his vast expertise—and again, he did the first draft, I did the rewrite and polish…and one thing that I noted instantly was that each time we collaborated, he needed a lot less polishing than the previous time.
That learning curve wasn’t apparent only to me. He won Analog’s AnLab poll for the Best Novelette, and not a lot of newcomers pull that off. But far from being content with such favorable notice, it simply served to spur him on. Move the clock ahead to 2012—just two short years after I handed him that trophy—and suddenly everywhere you looked, there was Brad. It seemed like every time you picked up an issue of Analog, he was on the cover. He was nominated for the Nebula Award. And a couple of months later he was up for the Hugo, as well as for science fiction’s “rookie-of-the-year” award, the Campbell.
Most people would be satisfied with that degree of progress, especially when you consider that writing is not only not Brad’s primary job (he does something incomprehensible with computers), but it’s not even his second job (he does something very comprehensible—and worthwhile—with the Army Reserve.) But Brad thinks and acts like a pro, and that meant that he got [the interest of] a top agent and began preparing not one, but two, novel manuscripts. And he didn’t forget his literary roots, either. He’s sold to a number of different magazines (including mine) and anthologies, but Analog remains his spiritual home, and when long-time editor Stan Schmidt retired, there was Brad, literarily bonding with the new editor and selling him at an even faster rate than he’d sold to Stan.
If he was just a good (and steadily-improving) writer, that would be enough to merit praise, but he’s also a good and steadily improving husband, father, and friend, whose behavior, wherever he goes and whatever company he’s keeping, is exemplary.
Every year or so I “adopt” a promising new talent, collaborate with them, buy from them, introduce them to editors and others who can help them. It’s really quite simple: everyone who helped me when I started out is dead or rich or both, so I can’t pay back, and the field has been so good to me that I feel compelled to pay forward. Hugo winner Maureen McHugh (I’ve called her “McHugo” ever since she won one back in 1996) calls these prodigies and protégés “Mike’s Writer Children.” The term seems to have stuck. Brad’s always calling me his “Writer Dad” on Facebook and elsewhere.
Well, based on the three years I’ve known him, and followed his no-longer-embryonic career, and enjoyed not only his writing but his friendship, he is one Writer Son who has made his Dad proud beyond all expectations.
Mike
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