README

When I first discovered I could buy a commercial payload to the Moon through my husband’s new employer, Astrobotic, my instant thought was, “TAKE MY MONEY!” I would figure out later how to use it. Well, later was within seconds when I realized I could put an SDcard in the tiny payload container. “I could send my books!” was my next thought.

It took maybe a minute to realize I could send a lot more than just my books.

Writers on the Moon was born.

The idea of creating a lunar time capsule of indie fiction was instantly appealing—inspirational, aspirational, and conjuring a glimpse of the future at a time that was very dark. It was the summer of 2020, and in the US, it was a time of pandemic, racial unrest, and a fraught political election. Everything was upside down, and no one was untouched. The fall and winter were honestly worse. As I’m writing this, the US has just passed 500,000 lives lost in the pandemic, many people in Texas are still without power after a climate-driven Polar Vortex broke their electrical grid, and record snows are piled up outside my window in the suburbs of Chicago. We’re still looking at months cooped up in our homes until we get widespread vaccine availability for SARS-CoV-19. President Biden is working on COVID relief for the nation, the hungry and the impoverished, but things are dark here in the winter of 2021.

I’m telling you this, dear future anthropologist who we hope one day will find this time capsule, so you’ll understand how important a spark of joy was in this time.

You’ll find in this time capsule not only the actual fiction works of the official 125 Writers on the Moon listed in the manifest below, but images, songs, videos, screenplays, and artwork—you’ll see the carefully chosen highlights of the creators’ lives, not just their creations. Each has also written a README file that explains that curation—the story behind the stories and why they chose these particular items to send into the future, a lifeboat of hope in a dark and perilous time.

And on that lifeboat, we’ve brought stowaways. Just as I realized I could bring more than my own works, many of the 125 Writers on the Moon chose to share their payload space. Some brought the works of dear departed friends. Several included their children’s or parent’s work, often collaborations. A few were editors of anthologies, choosing to bring those works even over their own, suddenly expanding by an order of magnitude the number of writers whose works were represented.

It’s a story I couldn’t have imagined unfolding when I figuratively slapped down my cash on the bar and said, “Give me one of those payload slots!”

But that’s how the best stories go—the happy resolution you didn’t see coming.

So, I invite you, dear future anthropologist, to read the stories behind the stories. Each Writer on the Moon has their own folder of works where you’ll also find their README file. The official Stowaways—people who are not writers but readers or individuals with a special connection to the project—each have their own folders and README files as well. You’ll find my father, who worked on the rocket engines for the original Apollo missions, and his collection of mini-tales and photos from that era. You’ll find a young woman whose life goal to be an astronaut was cut short by fate, but whose special connection to the Moon is beautifully illustrated in her artwork, including Chang’e, the Chinese goddess of the Moon. These are just teasers to whet your appetite, as storytellers are wont to do.

I hope you find joy and laughter and hope in this gift from the past—a curation of lives and art of the citizens of Earth in 2021. But no matter how this is received in the future, know that the mere creation of this has helped us Earthlings in the past weather a difficult time. Our belief in the existence of you—the future—has gotten us through today.

Happy Reading!

—Dr. Susan Kaye Quinn, payload coordinator for Writers on the Moon