Story J*: From Daily Science Fiction – “PS This was an almost for us”. Story E*: From someone else – “Probably your best attempt. Very well written, and I loved how descriptive it was, but, frankly, the competition is tight here, and I’m forced to turn down otherwise good stuff”. Thanks heaps! Great to get […]
… other than Sigrid Thornton’s birthday, or celebrating the anniversary of the start of the Bathurst gold rush* … February 12 2014# sees the launch of Regime 03, “the world’s most frivolous of serious literature magazines”, this time including a story, “Good Boy” by yours truly. … *thanks Mrs Wikipedia # wonder what I’ll be […]
Aurealis has been promoting Australian speculative fiction and supporting Australian writers since 1990. Their latest endeavour is to seek to become a Science Fiction Writers of America qualifying market, one of the prerequisites for which is to pay writers 5 cents a word (soon to be 6 cents) for stories published in their magazine. In […]
I had to have my dog put down before Christmas last year. There is no art in that, nothing but bathos. Orwell may have made something out of shooting an imaginary elephant, but there is no poetry or great message in the death of my cute little dog. I stayed with him as the vet […]
Who knew the stars were eyes? (clustered, staring, greedy) Or the sky a face? The earth is a mouth, full of teeth.
Doctor, my Doctor – thank you Steven Moffatt, I was worried you were going to stuff it up, but it was a brilliant 50th anniversary present – a tear came to the eye of many a middle aged man at the appearance of a certain white haired figure, frail with a cane but still with […]
Here at The Stevens Institute (charitable status pending, we shall be seeking your donations shortly), we seek to ethicise omnivorism (and invent new words to patent). We are trying folks, we really are. We have put all of this week’s grant money into considering balloon animals. Some of you may be scoffing, as you associate […]
Horace Tott spent an uneventful life in Cheshire always intending to write a large book on English magic, but never quite beginning. And so he died at seventy-four, still imagining he might begin next week, or perhaps the week after that. Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, Susanna Clarke
I thought that it must have been International Burns Day with the victims on parade, their different scars on display. Marks I had not seen before. Hair up, showing pigmentless flesh below the ear. Flashmark along the arm. Puckered skin running down the rear of a shoulder. Are these the marks that all lives leave, […]
News of the bus misadventure high in the Canutes caused me to reflect on an incident from my school days. Those of a certain age will remember the tightening of the local school curriculum, when a scientific fine tooth comb was drawn through the hippy length hair of what in those days passed for the […]
Nobody is looking 