I fucking hate cancer. This is another reason why. A wonderful young writer, whom I have a great deal of admiration for, has died.
I'm just going to cut and paste the message from her husband that BoingBoing put up:
"Eugie Foster, author, editor, wife, died on September 27th of respiratory failure at Emory University in Atlanta.
In her forty-two years, Eugie lived three lifetimes. She won the Nebula award, the highest award for science fiction literature, and had over one hundred of her stories published. She was an editor for the Georgia General Assembly. She was the director of the Daily Dragon at Dragon Con, and was a regular speaker at genre conventions. She was a model, dancer, and psychologist. She also made my life worth living.
Memorial service will be announced soon.
We do not need flowers. In lieu of flowers, please buy her books and read them. Buy them for others to read until everyone on the planet knows how amazing she was.
–Matthew M. Foster (husband)"
How could you not love the writing of a woman who hugs a skunk like it was the greatest thing ever? All animals, and animal spirits, should mourn her passing.
I warmly encourage anyone who strays by accident to this page to read her work. Now go to Amazon and press some buttons.