Rarely is an editor so fortunate as myself. This is not simply because I was chosen to assist with this book, but because I have never appeared before in print and have often dreamed of being so.

Perhaps I should begin by telling you a little about myself: I love to read and I love to write, so I am writing this editor’s note so that you can read it. Each of us enjoys at least one of these experiences—reading or writing—otherwise, we would not be sharing this (written) conversation. Editors make this possible, as do readers, by choosing the best that writers can offer their readers. However, you, as reader, may not know what is the best, because you are not an editor. This is why I am so important to the process of reading and writing. And that is all you really need know about me.

The birth of this book resulted from neither incest nor divinity, but through the comparatively mundane patience and labour that often produces forgotten literary works. Many poems in this edition lay buried in e-mail or in papers stored thousands of miles away in a lady’s private collection. The single story evolved from countless walks and keen observation, including an unhealthy dose of navel gazing. The idea of a collection sprung to life from the sick bed of a retired writer, sadly no longer with us.

As for Rick Steele, I need say little. His works stand on their own merit. Why would I risk lowering your high regard for me as an editor by commenting on these merits? That would be boneheaded. Better that you discover these qualities by venturing forth on your own. After all, that’s what I did. And I feel I am the better person for it.

Timothy Smidgin
Professor Emeritus, College of the Prairies