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Matt Dovey

11:29am, 29th December 2022

2022: the Year the Years Caught Up

A baby raccoon walking through green grass, one paw raisedI usually have complicated feelings about awards season, but they're much easier this year:

I didn't have anything published this year. Nothing. Not a thing.

That's the first year since I was published that I haven't been published.

I guess I should dig into that, as self-forgiveness if nothing else.

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12:34pm, 3rd January 2022

2021 in Stories

2021 Stories - Matt DoveyThe lag in publishing is a funny old thing. To wit: I've not done any new writing since about Easter 2019, thanks to real life, and yet in 2021 I had four new originals come out, which were--in my estimation--probably my best work.

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2:34pm, 3rd January 2021

2020: The Year That Wasn't

A black pug, mugging for the camera Well. I'm glad to see the back of those twelve months, how about you?

I don't do awards eligibility posts anyway, but even if I did 2020 was basically a pause year for my writing for multiple real life reasons, of which a once-in-a-century global pandemic was only one. In all honesty I've hardly written anything new for going on two years now. Which is to say: about the amount of time we've been fighting our local education authority to get an appropriate school placement for our youngest child and his autistic needs. Funny how dealing with the bureaucracy required to secure your child's entire future and current happiness leaves you without the time or emotional energy to write.

But some stuff still happened this year! To wit:

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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 →

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Every morning I harvested the most luscious blooms from the gardens for display in the showroom. Today the quince blazed with bright orange blossom, so I cut a few twigs. As I carried them inside, I sniffed the flowers to check the engineered pheromones. A wave of longing overtook me: a sudden urge to do something mischievous and subversive.

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