This doesn’t happen often – two posts in one day. However, I had something I needed to get off my chest and I couldn’t rest until I’d announced to the world that I (deep breath) am a speculative fiction writer. Of course everyone reading this will now say ‘What? Well of course you are, we knew that’ but while you may have known, I didn’t. I know my published fiction is all sci-fi, but I had a couple of near-misses with what I like to think of as literary fiction (such a snob), and I know my most treasured rejection was from Interzone, but hey what about Resurrection Joe – that’s mainstream (in a minority interest sort of way). And the serial novel is definitely mainstream. I’m clutching at straws here.
As well as working on my Bradford-based science fiction story today (coming along nicely, thanks), I’ve also finally written an ending that satisfies OneMonkey’s highly critical standards for a story that’s been in limbo for months. It’s dark fantasy, but every now and then I do like a bit of escapism into the speculative realms. I poked around in my ‘in progress’ file and turned up quite a decent story I wrote about a year ago, ruined by a weak ending which I think I’ve sorted out tonight, though until this morning I’d forgotten it even existed. It’s near-future science fiction, but it’s not as if I write a lot of that. I looked through the rest of the file and found 7 science fiction, 4 fantasy and a sort of time-sliding post-scientific fantasy thing. Out of 17 short stories.
OK, OK I admit it, I enjoy writing fantasy and sci-fi, even a bit of psychological horror now and then – what do you expect when I spent my adolescence reading Stephen King, Douglas Adams, Terry Pratchett and Philip K Dick in between all the Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky? Not to mention the degrees I did in physics and maths (though the consensus seems to be that I’m far more Arthur Dent than Trillian). I’d love to write a Doctor Who novel someday (eighth Doctor, naturally). There, I’ve said it.
Right, I feel a lot better for that. Back to work…