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Matt Dovey

12:32pm, 20th June 2017

Stories, stories, everywhere

The author, hard at work. (Image shows a child writing with crayons)I am habitually terrible at writing blog posts in a timely fashion (I'm just as bad with the mailing list) and so I have not posted about all the stories I've had out lately. I've had a lot out in the last couple of months, some of them my favourite things. It's been a good year so far!

Here we go:

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TAGS: new story


3:00pm, 1st November 2016

New Story: Quartet of the Far Blown Winds @ FFO

The Hubble Ultra-Deep Field, my favourite mindfuckQuartet of the Far Blown Winds is a story about distance, loneliness, and the vast empty reaches of space. It's about the Fermi Paradox, and my answer to it.

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TAGS: fermi paradox, new story, science, science fiction


10:00am, 1st March 2016

New Story: This is the Sound of the End of the World @ FFO

A hundred-year old image of the stars in the night skyIt's finally, properly, actually official: I'm a published author. My story "This is the Sound of the End of the World" is up at Flash Fiction Online today, for free, forever. Go read it! It's a 992-word space opera with giant planet destroying lasers. To quote Suzanne Vincent's editorial, it's "a 'galaxy-far-far-away' offering with a healthy serving of heart". I like that description.

It may not be long, but there's still a story behind it.

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TAGS: new story


12:05am, 30th October 2015

New Story: Elm & Sorrow

It wouldn't be much of a writer's website without some writing on it, would it?

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TAGS: new story


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About

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 →

Latest Story

You're not a person, they say, circling. You're one of Them. From the other side.

They Say

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Narrations

The dusk of a November day was falling fast when John Aylsford came out of his lodging in the cobbled street and started to walk briskly along the road which led eastwards by the shore of the bay. He had been at work while the daylight served him, and now, when the gathering darkness weaned him from his easel, he was accustomed to go out for air and exercise and cover half a dozen miles before he returned to his solitary supper.

At the Farmhouse by E. F. Benson
PseudoPod #702

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Random Story

Spread like sails and pushed by distant starlight and supernovae, the four objects drift into the system. They are huge beyond understanding, incomprehensible in their composition. All our probes and all our science leave us no wiser.

Quartet of the Far Blown Winds