"What is there about SF that draws us? What is SF anyhow? It grips fans; it grips editors; it grips writers. And none make any money." -"Notes Made Late At Night By A Weary SF Writer" 1968, 1972*

"He [the SF writer] will create, on the basis of known data or plausible data, how it could all be better or it could all be worse. His story or novel is in a sense a protest, but not a political one; it is a protest against concrete reality in an unusual way. He wishes to sing, rather than chant and carry signs. It does not occur to him, if he sees the freeways becoming death traps, to petition the city council for changes in speed laws and so on--he sees the dangers but, being an introvert, the idea of social action...is not his natural response. 'Flexibility' is the key word here; it is the creating of multiverses, rather than a universe, that fascinates and drives him. 'What if...' is always his starting premise. Part scientist, part political activist, but with the conviction of the magic power of the written word, and his restlessness, his impatience--he will spin one new world for you after the other, given a set of facts or even one sole datum to take off from. He wants to see possibilities, not actualities. He is a dreamer with one eye open, always coldly appraising what is actually going on." -"Who Is an SF Writer?" 1974*

"I love to read it [SF]; I love to write it. The SF writer sees not just possibilities but wild possibilities. Its not just 'What if..." It's "My God; what if..." In frenzy and hysteria. The Martians are always coming. Mr. Spock is the only one calm." -"Introduction to The Golden Man" 1980*

"All responsible writers, to some degree, have become involuntary criers of doom, because doom is in the wind; but the science fiction writer more so, since science fiction has always been a protest medium. In science fiction, a writer is not merely inclined to act out the Cassandra role; he is absolutely obliged to--unless, of course, he honestly thinks he will wake up some morning and find that the high-minded Martians have have sneaked off with all our bombs and armaments, for our own good." -"Pessimism In Science Fiction" 1955*

"Let me just make one statement: I hope people will come into the science fiction field and write science fiction and not listen to people like Robert Silverberg and Barry Maltzberg and Harlan Ellision and Kurt Vonnegut, who say either they don't write science fiction or they never did write science fiction or they will not write it in the future. I mean, science fiction is a lot of fun to write, and it's worth all the bad financial breaks to do it. I don't regret one thing. Well, that's not true. I regret it when they turn off my electricity. For instance, I went through periods when I sent off the manuscript of Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said and didn't have enough money to send it first class. I had to send it by third-class mail. That's Pressure City when you get to the point where you can't pay the postage to mail off a manuscript after it's already been bought. We're back to the artist in the garret again. You know he's going to starve his ass off if he writes science fiction; he'll never get any recognition, and he'll never get any money. But he will have a hell of a lot of fun, and he ought to know what he's in it for. If he wants to go into writing for the money, let him go elsewhere. Writers are stupid if they think they're in it for the money. Why did they get into writing in the first place? Whoever promised them a lot of money? Where was Ellison promised a lot of money? Where did it say that Maltzberg was promised fame and money, as if it was his birthright, his patrimony? Nonsense. We're lucky they publish us at all. They could actually abolish the field of science fiction, and then we really would have to write something else. We're lucky that the category still exists. Let's hear it for the science fiction writers who are coming along and still writing science fiction and flip the bird to the people who want money." -"Mainstream That Through the Ghetto Flows" 1976

* reprinted in/taken from Lawrence Sutin's The Shifting Realities of Philip K. Dick

More to come...