9:15pm, 23rd August 2016
It took me an embarassingly long time to work this out: conflict is everything.
Do you know what happened to the first story I wrote once I worked it out? When I first focused on deliberately working it into every paragraph? It won WotF.
If you only ever take one piece of advice from me, take this: you need more conflict.
TAGS: Anatomy of a Golden Pen, wotf32
5:00pm, 23rd May 2016
Being a writer, I'm full of self-importance and arrogantly believe everyone wants to read pages and pages of nonsense from me. As such, I'm going to start a series about my Golden Pen story from Writers of the Future volume 32, Squalor & Sympathy, dissecting it from various angles.
First up: all the historical accuracies and references in the story.
TAGS: Anatomy of a Golden Pen, wotf32
Matt Dovey is a writer of short speculative fiction. He is very tall, very British, and probably drinking a cup of tea right now. His surname rhymes with “Dopey”, but any other similarities to the dwarf are purely coincidental. More →
So now they lounged in the forward pilotchair, looking through the clear orb of the piscine eye at silvery-clouds of water vapour, and pretended a light, airy tone. "Jean, my beloved, are you well and ready to go?"
”INTERVIEWER: My guest tonight is comedian Timothy Palmer, who recently returned to the stage for a nationwide tour. Please welcome Timothy Palmer. [applause]
PALMER: Thank you. Thank you very much. It’s great to be here, John.
INTERVIEWER: Before we get started, I must tell you that we polled tonight’s audience before you arrived. Over the years you’ve done some remarkable cameos in films and television, and we asked the audience what was the line they most wanted to hear you say.
”Anatomy of a Golden Pen apology appearance award Dublin2019 fermi paradox free Glasgow2024 harm homebrew interview lessons new story news nonsense podcast politics responsibilities retrospective roundup science science fiction waffle wotf32 writing
Inside, I drip: I leak I throb I pulse I glisten. Everything is moist underfoot and my walls leave stains of bile and bloodclot on the black-robed priests that pass through like infection.
”