Stitch Bitch: the patchwork girl
there are some of you who still think I am Shelley Jackson, author of a hypertext about an imaginary monster, the patchwork
girl Mary Shelley made after her first-born ran amok. No, I
am the monster herself, and it is Shelley Jackson who is imaginary,
or so it would appear, since she always vanishes when I turn
up. You can call me Shelley Shelley if you like, daughter of Mary Shelley, author of the following, entitled: Stitch Bitch: or, Shelley Jackson, that imposter, I’m going to get her.
I have pilfered
her notes, you see, and I don’t mind reading them, but I have shuffled the pages. I expect what comes of it will be more to
my liking, might even sound like something I would say. Whoever Shelley Jackson may be, if she wants me to mouth her words, she can expect them to come out a little changed. I’m not who
she says I am ….