I’m normally quite good at this – keeping an eye on my junk or spam folders for any emails that might inadvertently be flagged up and side-lined. But this time one slipped through.
I’ve had a few computer issues lately. Well, when I say issues it’s really called ‘husband upgrading and tinkering’ and doing annoying things such as deleting all my contacts! And somewhere in amongst all this a short story acceptance was marked as junk and then deleted. Or maybe it never got through at all. Whatever the reason I never saw it.
The first I knew was when I checked my junk folder this week there was a message from a few days previously from a magazine editor asking had I received their email of acceptance back in December and was the story still available.
Well clearly I hadn’t and I promptly replied apologising and said that yes, the story was still available and I was happy for them to proceed.
I’ve not heard any more so who knows? But for now I’m marking this as a sale and hopefully I’ll be able to share The Relic with you all in the not too distant future.
Except it’s set during a virus outbreak so maybe they’ve changed their minds!
Wednesday, 25 March 2020
Thursday, 19 March 2020
Short Story Sale to NewMyths.com
My latest short story sale is a flash piece called ‘The Last Library’ which has found a home at NewMyths.com. It is due to be published later this year. I’ll let you know when it comes online.
Thursday, 12 March 2020
Living in a Dystopian Novel
There is a blurring of fiction and reality. The world we live in has changed, in many ways not for the better. We thought we were safe, living in our technological bubble. But all that is changing.
It really does feel as if we are players – minor characters in a real-life dystopian novel. We didn’t choose these roles. But now we have to let the story play.
Over the years I have written about climate change – Cli-Fi – Climate Fiction it was called. Nobody reads it any more. Probably because it is real now. Climate fact. I wandered down to the harbour at Spring tide and the roads alongside the harbour wall were awash. Two weeks ago at the last spring tide it was the same. Cars were ploughing through, sending up plumes of spray. The salt water will rot their bodywork but the drivers don’t seem to care.
People have other things to worry about. There’s a virus spreading across the world, out of control in many places. Nobody bothers too much when it’s somewhere else. But it’s not somewhere else. It’s here. It’s happening now.
I went to the supermarket and the shelves were bare. Not all of them, but oddly people are stockpiling toilet roll. There’s a craziness about the world we live in. Historians of the future will study it in great depth, I have no doubt. Maybe they’ll puzzle over the toilet roll panic. I certainly did.
Maybe I need to brush up on my survival skills. Do I know where to forage for food? Could I skin a rabbit? Should I be building a bunker at the bottom of my garden? Or will a well-stocked freezer and larder suffice?
Will it all blow over and life continue as before? Will the summer be one of spritz in the sunshine, laughing at the craziness of it all?
Either way, I still get the feeling that I’ve been trapped in a novel. An oddly surreal novel.
The next few weeks will tell.
It really does feel as if we are players – minor characters in a real-life dystopian novel. We didn’t choose these roles. But now we have to let the story play.
Over the years I have written about climate change – Cli-Fi – Climate Fiction it was called. Nobody reads it any more. Probably because it is real now. Climate fact. I wandered down to the harbour at Spring tide and the roads alongside the harbour wall were awash. Two weeks ago at the last spring tide it was the same. Cars were ploughing through, sending up plumes of spray. The salt water will rot their bodywork but the drivers don’t seem to care.
People have other things to worry about. There’s a virus spreading across the world, out of control in many places. Nobody bothers too much when it’s somewhere else. But it’s not somewhere else. It’s here. It’s happening now.
I went to the supermarket and the shelves were bare. Not all of them, but oddly people are stockpiling toilet roll. There’s a craziness about the world we live in. Historians of the future will study it in great depth, I have no doubt. Maybe they’ll puzzle over the toilet roll panic. I certainly did.
Maybe I need to brush up on my survival skills. Do I know where to forage for food? Could I skin a rabbit? Should I be building a bunker at the bottom of my garden? Or will a well-stocked freezer and larder suffice?
Will it all blow over and life continue as before? Will the summer be one of spritz in the sunshine, laughing at the craziness of it all?
Either way, I still get the feeling that I’ve been trapped in a novel. An oddly surreal novel.
The next few weeks will tell.
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