I looked at some older things I wrote tonight. One story, And Then There Were None, was accepted for an anthology a few years ago. The anthology then got cancelled. The story went back into my files. What is interesting is that it was considered revised enough to be accepted for publication. Looking at it now, it still needs tweaking. Here is my original opening:

Teleporting living things posed no problem. Reintegrating them posed the problem. Ten rats zapped into the mythical ether and nothing to show for it…

“Damn it!” Stowe cursed from the control console. His hair stood up in comical corkscrews, but nothing about his expression was comical. He had the look of obsession thwarted and teetered on the brink of exploding into rage. Chimpanzees, mice and rabbits picked up his mood and fidgeted in their cages.

Maclin paced behind Stowe. In her mid-twenties, she could enter one hundred numbers per minute on a calculator. Still, it took the two of them eighteen hours to set up a copy of the G-10 Teleportation System. Their job was to perfect the transportation of living things. Attempts by the original designers yielded smoking clumps of flesh and fur. They couldn’t even accomplish that.

“What are we doing wrong?” Stowe grumbled.

Defeated, Maclin asked, “Did you try wiggling the antenna?”

Stupefaction replaced Stowe’s frustration. He rushed to the receiver, lab coat billowing, and made certain an input cable was tight. As soon as he twisted it, the device hummed into operation.

Maclin all but slapped her forehead when the console’s computer screen lit up with jumbled numbers. “You’ve got to be kidding me… It works!”

With a pop of ozone, something materialized.

With a look of horror, Stowe screamed.

Here are the revisions I just made to the opening…

Teleporting living things posed no problem. Reintegrating them posed the problem. Ten rats zapped into the mythical ether and nothing to show for it…

“Damn it!” Stowe cursed. He stood behind the control console; his hair stood up in comical corkscrews; his patience could stand no more. He teetered on the brink of exploding into rage. Chimpanzees, mice and rabbits picked up his mood and fidgeted in their cages.

Maclin paced behind Stowe. She could enter one hundred numbers per minute on a calculator and field strip a railgun blindfolded. It took her and Stowe eighteen hours to set up a copy of the G-10 Teleportation System. Their job was to perfect the transportation of living things. Attempts by the original designers yielded smoking clumps of flesh and fur. They couldn’t even accomplish that.

“What are we doing wrong?” Stowe fumed.

Maclin shrugged. “Did you try wiggling the antenna?”

Stupefaction replaced Stowe’s frustration. He rushed to the receiver, lab coat billowing, and made certain an input cable was tight.

Maclin all but slapped her forehead when the console’s computer screen lit up with jumbled numbers. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

Something materialized on the receiver platform with an ozone pop.

Stowe and Maclin screamed.

So why did I do what I did? Basically, I streamlined things to give the reader less time to think something might be silly. Could a problem on such a complicated machine really be as simple as a cable not being tight enough? Maybe. Regardless, for this type of story, it is best to maybe not get bogged down on particulars. Things being silly does not necessarily ruin a story. Silly things being badly written ruin a story. For example, a man who has a six-foot invisible rabbit for a friend is silly. Nevertheless, it is a great story called Harvey because that silly thing was written right.