Foundation and Empire Acknowledgments

The interlocking was August 1, 1941. World War II had been raging for two old age. France had f completelyen, the Battle of Britain had been fought, and the Soviet Union had adept been invaded by Nazi Germany. The bombing of Pearl Harbor was four months in the future.But on that day, with europium in flames, and the evil shadow of Adolf Hitler apparently falling over all the world, what was chiefly on my hear was a meeting toward which I was hastening.I was 21 years old, a graduate student in chemistry at Columbia University, and I had been writing acquisition fiction professionally for triplet years. In that time, I had sold five stories to privy Campbell, editor of Astounding, and the fifth story, Nightfall, was ab verboten to appear in the folk 1941 issue of the magazine. I had an appointment to see Mr. Campbell to tell him the plot of a forward-looking story I was planning to write, and the catch was that I had no plot in mind, not the trace of oneness.I and then trie d a device I sometimes use. I opened a hold in at random and fixate up free association, beginning with whatever I for the first time saw. The al-Quran I had with me was a collection of the Gilbert and Sullivan plays. I happened to open it to the picture of the Fairy Queen of lolanthe throwing herself at the feet of orphic Willis. I thought of soldiers, of military empires, of the roman print Empire of a Galactic Empire ahaWhy shouldnt I write of the fall of the Galactic Empire and of the return of feudalism, written from the viewpoint of someone in the determine days of the Second Galactic Empire? After all, I had pick disclose Gibbons Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire not once, but twice.I was bubbling over by the time I got to Campbells, and my frenzy must have been catching for Campbell blazed up as I had never seen him do. In the course of an hour we built up the notion of a vast serial of connected stories that were to deal in conf utilise detail with the gra nd-year period between the First and Second Galactic Empires. This was to be illuminated by the science of psychohistory, which Campbell and I thrashed divulge between us.On August 11, 1941, therefore, I began the story of that interregnum and called it metrical unit. In it, I expound how the psychohistorian, Hari Seldon, established a pair of cosmoss at opposite ends of the Universe under such circumstances as to make sure that the forces of history would bring rough the piece Empire after one thousand years instead of the thirty thousand that would be required otherwise.The story was submitted on September 8 and, to make sure that Campbell really beggarlyt what he said about a series, I cease stem on a cliff-hanger. Thus, it seemed to me, he would be forced to buy a second story.However, when I started the second story (on October 24), I found that I had outsmarted myself. I quickly wrote myself into an impasse, and the pedestal series would have died an pitch-black dea th had I not had a conversation with Fred Pohl on November 2 (on the Brooklyn Bridge, as it happened). I dont regard as what Fred actually said, but, whatever it was, it pulled me out of the hole. butt appeared in the May 1942 issue of Astounding and the succeeding story, balk and Saddle, in the June 1942 issue.After that there was only the routine trouble of writing the stories. Through the remainder of the decade, John Campbell kept my nose to the grindstone and made sure he got additional home stories.The Big and the Little was in the August 1944 Astounding, The Wedge in the October 1944 issue, and Dead Hand in the April 1945 issue. (These stories were written while I was on the job(p) at the Navy Yard in Philadelphia.)On January 26, 1945, I began The Mule, my personal favorite among the mental hospital stories, and the yearlong yet, for it was 50,000 words. It was printed as a two-part serial (the very first serial I was ever responsible for) in the November and December 1 945 issues. By the time the second part appeared I was in the army.After I got out of the army, I wrote Now You See It- which appeared in the January 1948 issue. By this time, though, I had grown tired of the Foundation stories so I tried to end them by setting up, and solving, the mystery of the location of the Second Foundation. Campbell would have no(prenominal) of that, however. He forced me to change the completion, and made me promise I would do one more Foundation story.Well, Campbell was the kind of editor who could not be denied, so I wrote one more Foundation story, vowing to myself that it would be the last. I called it -And Now You Dont, and it appeared as a three-part serial in the November 1949, December 1949, and January 1950 issues of Astounding.By then, I was on the biochemistry faculty of Boston University School of Medicine, my first entertain had just been published, and I was determined to move on to new things. I had spent eight years on the Foundation, writ ten nine stories with a amount of about 220,000 words. My total earnings for the series came to $3,641 and that seemed enough. The Foundation was over and done with, as far as I was concerned.In 1950, however, hardcover science fiction was just coming into reality. I had no dissent to earning a little more money by having the Foundation series reprinted in book form. I offered the series to Doubleday (which had already published a science-fiction novel by me, and which had mystifyed for another) and to Little-Brown, but both jilted it. In that year, though, a small publishing firm, Gnome Press, was beginning to be active, and it was prepared to do the Foundation series as three books.The publisher of Gnome felt, however, that the series began too abruptly. He persuaded me to write a small Foundation story, one that would serve as an introductory section to the first book (so that the first part of the Foundation series was the last written).In 1951, the Gnome Press edition of F oundation was published, containing the mental hospital and the first four stories of the series. In 1952, Foundation and Empire appeared, with the fifth and sixth stories and in 1953, Second Foundation appeared, with the seventh and eighth stories. The three books to imparther came to be called The Foundation Trilogy.The mere fact of the existence of the Trilogy bright me, but Gnome Press did not have the financial clout or the publishing knowhow to get the books distributed properly, so that few copies were sold and fewer alleviate paid me royalties. (Nowadays, copies of first editions of those Gnome Press books carry on at $50 a copy and up-but I still get no royalties from them.)Ace masss did edit out paperback editions of Foundation and of Foundation and Empire, but they changed the titles, and used cut versions. Any money that was tangled was paid to Gnome Press and I didnt see much of that. In the first decade of the existence of The Foundation Trilogy it may have earn ed something like $1500 total.And yet there was some foreign interest. In early 1961, Timothy Seldes, who was then my editor at Doubleday, told me that Doubleday had received a request for the Portuguese rights for the Foundation series and, since they werent Doubleday books, he was passing them on to me. I sighed and said, The heck with it, Tim. I dont get royalties on those books.Seldes was horrified, and instantly set about getting the books a centering from Gnome Press so that Doubleday could publish them instead. He paid no attention to my loudly expressed fears that Doubleday would lose its shirt on them. In August 1961 an agreement was r individuallyed and the Foundation books became Doubleday property. Whats more, Avon Books, which had published a paperback version of Second Foundation, set about obtaining the rights to all three from Doubleday, and disgorge out nice editions.From that moment on, the Foundation books took off and began to earn increasing royalties. They ha ve sold salubrious and steadily, both in hardcover and softcover, for two decades so far. Increasingly, the letters I received from the readers spoke of them in high praise. They received more attention than all my other books put together.Doubleday also published an manager volume, The Foundation Trilogy, for its Science Fiction Book Club. That omnibus volume has been continuously featured by the Book Club for over twenty years.Matters reached a climax in 1966. The fans organizing the World Science Fiction dominion for that year (to be held in Cleveland) decided to award a Hugo for the best all-time series, where the series, to qualify, had to consist of at least three connected novels. It was the first time such a category had been set up, nor has it been perennial since. The Foundation series was nominated, and I felt that was passing play to have to be glory enough for me, since I was sure that Tolkiens Lord of the Rings would win.It didnt. The Foundation series won, and th e Hugo I received for it has been sitting on my bookcase in the livingroom ever since.In among all this litany of success, both in money and in fame, there was one plaguy side-effect. Readers couldnt help but calling card that the books of the Foundation series covered only three hundred-plus years of the thousand-year dangling between Empires. That meant the Foundation series wasnt finished. I got innumerable letters from readers who asked me to finish it, from others who demanded I finish it, and still others who threatened dire vengeance if I didnt finish it. Worse yet, various editors at Doubleday over the years have pointed out that it might be wise to finish it.It was flattering, of course, but irritating as well. days had passed, then decades. Back in the 1940s, I had been in a Foundation-writing mood. Now I wasnt. Starting in the late 1950s, I had been in a more and more nonfiction-writing mood.That didnt mean I was writing no fiction at all. In the 1960s and 1970s, in fa ct, I wrote two science-fiction novels and a mystery novel, to ordain nothing of well over a hundred short stories but about eighty part of what I wrote was nonfiction.One of the most indefatigable nags in the matter of finishing the Foundation series was my replete(p) friend, the great science-fiction writer, Lester del Rey. He was ceaselessly telling me I ought to finish the series and was just as constantly suggesting plot devices. He even told Larry Ashmead, then my editor at Doubleday, that if I refused to write more Foundation stories, he, Lester, would be leave aloneing to take on the task.When Ashmead mentioned this to me in 1973, I began another Foundation novel out of sheer desperation. I called it Lightning pole and managed to write fourteen pages in advance other tasks called me remote. The fourteen pages were put away and additional years passed. In January 1977, Cathleen Jordan, then my editor at Doubleday, suggested I do an important book a Foundation novel, perhaps. I said, Id rather do an autobiography, and I did 640,000 words of it.In January 1981, Doubleday apparently garbled its temper. At least, Hugh ONeill, then my editor there, said, Betty Prashker wants to see you, and marched me into her office. She was then one of the senior editors, and a sweet and attractive person.She wasted no time. Isaac, she said, you are going to write a novel for us and you are going to sign a contract to that effect.Betty, I said, I am already working on a big science book for Doubleday and I have to revise the Biographical Encyclopedia for Doubleday and -It back end all wait, she said. You are going to sign a contract to do a novel. Whats more, were going to give you a $50,000 happen.That was a stunner. I dont like large advances. They put me under too great an obligation. My average advance is something like $3,000. Why not? Its all out of royalties.I said, Thats way too much money, Betty.No, it isnt, she said.Doubleday go forth lose its shi rt, I said.You keep telling us that all the time. It wont.I said, desperately, All right. Have the contract read that I dont get any money until I notify you in writing that I have begun the novel.Are you crazy? she said. Youll never start if that clause is in the contract. You get $25,000 on subscribe the contract, and $25,000 on delivering a completed manuscript.But suppose the novel is no good.Now youre being silly, she said, and she ended the conversation.That night, Pat LoBrutto, the science-fiction editor at Doubleday called to express his pleasure. And remember, he said, that when we say novel we mean science-fiction novel, not anything else. And when we say science-fiction novel, we mean Foundation novel and not anything else.On February 5, 1981, I signed the contract, and within the week, the Doubleday accounting system cranked out the equip for $25,000.I moaned that I was not my own master anymore and Hugh ONeill said, cheerfully, Thats right, and from now on, were going to call either other week and say, Wheres the manuscript? (But they didnt. They left me strictly alone, and never even asked for a progress report.) roughly four months passed while I took care of a vast number of things I had to do, but about the end of May, I picked up my own copy of The Foundation Trilogy and began reading.I had to. For one thing, I hadnt read the Trilogy in thirty years and while I remembered the general plot, I did not remember the details. Besides, before beginning a new Foundation novel I had to immerse myself in the style and aviation of the series.I read it with mounting uneasiness. I kept waiting for something to happen, and nothing ever did. All three volumes, all the intimately quarter of a million words, consisted of thoughts and of conversations. No action. No physical suspense.What was all the brabble about, then? Why did everyone want more of that stuff? To be sure, I couldnt help but notice that I was turning the pages eagerly, and that I was upset when I finished the book, and that I wanted more, but I was the author, for goodness sake. You couldnt go by me.I was on the edge of deciding it was all a terrible demerit and of insisting on giving back the money, when (quite by accident, I swear) I came across some sentences by science-fiction writer and critic, James Gunn, who, in connection with the Foundation series, said, Action and romance have little to do with the success of the Trilogy virtually all the action takes place offstage, and the romance is almost invisible but the stories tender a detective-story fascination with the permutations and reversals of ideas.Oh, well, if what was needed were permutations and reversals of ideas, then that I could supply. Panic receded, and on June 10, 1981, I dug out the fourteen pages I had written more than eight years before and reread them. They sounded good to me. I didnt remember where I had been headed back then, but I had worked out what seemed to me to be a good endi ng now, and, starting page 15 on that day, I proceeded to work toward the new ending.I found, to my infinite relief, that I had no trouble getting back into a Foundation-mood, and, fresh from my rereading, I had Foundation history at my finger-tips.There were differences, to be sure1) The original stories were written for a science-fiction magazine and were from 7,000 to 50,000 words long, and no more. Consequently, each book in the trilogy had at least two stories and lacked unity. I intended to make the new book a single story.2) I had a particularly good chance for development since Hugh said, Let the book find its own length, Isaac. We dont mind a long book. So I planned on 140,000 words, which was nearly three times the length of The Mule, and this gave me plenty of elbow-room, and I could add all sorts of little touches.3) The Foundation series had been written at a time when our knowledge of astronomy was primitive compared with what it is today. I could take favor of that a nd at least mention black holes, for instance. I could also take advantage of electronic computers, which had not been invented until I was half through with the series.The novel progressed steadily, and on January 17, 1982, I began final copy. I brought the manuscript to Hugh ONeill in batches, and the poor fellow went half-crazy since he insisted on reading it in this broken fashion. On March 25, 1982, I brought in the last bit, and the very next day got the second half of the advance.I had kept Lightning Rod as my working title all the way through, but Hugh finally said, Is there any way of putting Foundation into the title, Isaac? I suggested Foundations at Bay, therefore, and that may be the title that will actually be used 1.You will have noticed that I have said nothing about the plot of the new Foundation novel. Well, naturally. I would rather you buy and read the book.And yet there is one thing I have to confess to you. I generally manage to tie up all the loose ends into o ne neat little bow-knot at the end of my stories, no matter how complicated the plot might be. In this case, however, I noticed that when I was all done, one glaring little item remained unresolved.I am hoping no one else notices it because it clearly points the way to the continuation of the series.It is even possible that I inadvertently gave this away for at the end of the novel, I wrote The End (for now).I very much fear that if the novel proves successful, Doubleday will be at my throat again, as Campbell used to be in the old days. And yet what can I do but hope that the novel is very successful indeed. What a quandary