S. Hesper Jansen is a writer of speculative fiction with a poetic bent. If escapism is a vice, the senses a trap, and the fruits of the inhuman inedible by the sane, then she is a sinner, a sybarite, and thrice damned. Her current project — which takes her away from any kind of regular postings here — is an unexpectedly ambitious off-world fantasy romance with so many moving parts that if her multiple-sclerosis-addled brain actually lets her see it to fruition, she will be in the mood to buy the entire world a round of drinks. In advance, optimistically, she asks: “What’ll you have?”
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