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Heathen, a poem

15 Sep

Heathen, a poem (by Ray Daley)
14/9/17

I am heathen, hear me roar,
Please don’t knock upon my door?
I’m not strange, nor am I odd,
Don’t want to talk about your God.
I won’t hear anything you say,
Too busy wishing you’d go away.
I’m not bad, my heart is pure,
A heathen lives behind this door.

THE END.

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What’s currently in submission #6

31 Aug

As the last of these was in July, I thought it was time for an update.

What’s currently out in submission?

The Concentration Camp (subbed to Persistant Visions)
The Dionesian Wave (subbed to When You’re Strange (CASFWG))
Even Stevens (subbed to AE)
Junkie (subbed to Blind Spot)
An Improper State Of Mind [subbed to Mind Candy]
Lost Children (subbed to With Painted Words)
Rumpelstiltskin; The Early Years (subbed to Timeless Tales)
A Head Of Steam (subbed to Fantastic Trains)
Witch Hunt (subbed to Weird Book)

Some writing related news

29 Aug

Thing #1 – My story “The Catch” will be live on the Were-Traveler website this weekend. I’ll put up a link as soon as I get one.

Thing #2 – I signed a contract with Insignia for an anthology appearance with them recently. More news when I know they are going to press. I just read & returned edits on the story. I’m very happy with it.

Both of the above are paying gigs. Neither are huge pay days but a cheque is a cheque.

Thing #3 – I’ve had a story accepted into The Fairytale Collection: The Knight Sky.

Thing # 4 – I’ve also had a story accepted into an anthology which will be a Guinness World Record. I’ll be getting a certificate for it and everything! Providing we make the numbers by the end of the month. We have ALREADY broken the current record but we’re looking to destroy it.

The Little Boat (Poem)

24 Aug
The Little Boat, by Ray Daley
25/8/14

Sitting in my little boat, I will need my overcoat,
If I sink or if I float, I will sail my little boat.
The little boat; it is my life, the stormy sea; the waves of strife,
They can sink me if they must, In myself I know I trust.

The life of a story

19 Aug

I’ve been thinking about this for a few days.

A lot of my stories start the same way. By that I don’t mean the same words or the same ideas, I mean they start with me thinking of a title.

They also all end the same way, with me typing “THE END”.

I don’t always have a title, sometimes it’ll be something like “Rough outline for ghost idea”. That’s not a title, it’s a vague idea what the story is about. In these cases, the title comes later. Once I settle on a title, it’s rare that I’ll change it.

I’m not saying that I lock in a title forever once I decide on it. Not so. I’ve had stories where I’ve gone through four or more titles before settling on a final title.

Some stories begin life as a dream, or an idea I thought of in bed, or while in the toilet or out walking.

My ideas come from all sorts of places. A lot of them start life in the toilet. It’s quiet in there and you have time to turn ideas over in your head.

Don’t worry where an idea comes from. Toss it about, see if it’s got potential. Scribble it down, type it out. It might never get finished, but at least you’ve got a hard copy to develop later if you need it. There might come a time when there’s a call for zombie girl guides. Or whatever your idea is.

Accept this, some stuff you write will NEVER sell. It’s too weird, it’s not weird enough, they don’t get your humour, you’re too far ahead of the curve. But for whatever reason, know which stories won’t sell. But still, don’t be afraid to submit them.

Heck, I’ve recently sold stuff where I thought “No bugger’s going to want this,” subbed it any way and been paid actual real money for it!

On the other hand there are stories where I think “Everyone wants this,” and no bugger likes it.

Never self censor. If you’ve got a story you think fits, sub it, let someone else tell you no, it doesn’t fit.

Ray Bradbury said in order to write the good stuff, you’ve got to write the garbage first.

So get your title, write your garbage and hope the next one is going to sell.

Giant Fox (an poem)

11 Aug
Giant Fox (an poem) by Ray Daley
 
I am a giant fox, I live inside a giant box,
I own 500 pairs of socks, and none of them fit me.
I like to walk down at the park, I sit in my room when it’s dark,
I don’t know anyone called Mark, but I would like to.
That is me, a fox called Ron, Perhaps you know my brother Jon,
We’ve both got friends called Don but quietly hate them.
I am a giant fox, I’ve never had chickenpox,
I like to paint boats at docks, then set fire to them.
 
THE END

Waiting For Godot, Again [Flash Fiction]

7 Aug

Waiting For Godot, Again
7/8/17
By Ray Daley

This week we waited in the public bar of The Lamb And Her Shepherd. I didn’t mind waiting here, we at least had access to beer, a decent wifi speed and hot food when we finally needed it at about 2:30pm.

As per usual, shithead tweeted me he was on his way. “Be there in about 20 mins, order me a beer.” So I ordered him a beer.

Which I ended up drinking myself, along with my own when he finally resurfaced at around 9pm via Facebook. “Having an anxiety attack, won’t be able to make it. Sorry. Maybe see you next week? McDonald’s this time?

I’ve been waiting to meet him for almost 4 years now. I’m pretty sure he’s never going to show up. It’s always one thing or another. His cat was sick, his drama with his sister, he can’t find the right shoes to match his jacket.

I get that he suffers from social anxiety but he’s got to get out of the house at least once in his life!

Fuck waiting for Godot. Me and Jill are off home to shag.

THE END.