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Driftwood: where worlds go to die.

After the apocalypse, after most of a world has crumbled into ruin, the last, shattered fragments float through the cosmos until they fetch up against the Edge of Driftwood. There the survivors discover they are not alone: there are other worlds, that have suffered other disasters, and here the remnants struggle to survive. But nothing in Driftwood lasts forever; in time, everything fades, everything crumbles, everything goes away.

From the earliest days of the eponymous story of this setting, before I ever sold it anywhere, Driftwood had fans. More than any other short fiction of mine, these stories have excited commentary, interest, queries as to whether I intend to write more — in particular, a Driftwood novel. The simple answer is, no: a novel is a large, coherent thing, which is antithetical to the entire concept of the setting.

But a collection? That’s a distinct possibility, someday.