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Matt Dovey

12:47pm, 26th September 2017

Five Years On: Some Messages to Baby Writer Matt

An old man with a pocket watchIt's been five years since I received my first rejection (and more on that at the end), and by sheer coincidence I sent my 300th submission the day before the anniversary, so this seems an excellent moment for some introspection.

Here's some messages to the me of five years ago, in the hopes that some of them save you some time and grief.

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TAGS: lessons, retrospective, waffle


3:44pm, 8th January 2016

Threnody for an Untouched Moon

(Yes, I just learnt a new word.)

Here is some excellent news: space exploration is bigger news than it has been for years. SpaceX are landing re-useable rockets. NASA have funding to land on Europa. President Obama has set a timeline for getting to Mars.

And the ESA wants to go back to the moon.

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TAGS: waffle


9:51pm, 17th November 2015

Fragmented Thoughts for a Fragmented World

Common sense dictates I should refrain from commenting on politics and religion.

Bollocks to that. Politics and religion are central to my thinking, and they'll come out in all my stories. I'm not going to pretend to not be me. Honestly and seriously, though--I don't mean any offence by any of the below. I'm just thinking out loud.

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TAGS: politics, waffle


10:40pm, 12th November 2015

Don't Cross the Streams

I may well regret committing to so much social media distraction. I fear that social media is catnip for writers: satisfying, addictive and wholly useless and unfulfilling.

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TAGS: waffle


10:00pm, 29th October 2015

Once Upon a Time

Everything has a beginning, if you sort of squint your eyes and don't look too closely and pretend you can't see all that other stuff that's in the way. This is one of those beginnings.

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TAGS: waffle


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About

Matt Dovey is a professional writer of short science fiction & fantasy. 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

“I'm a bone poet,” she said. “The bonethieves only ever work towards violence and supremacy. All the bones they steal are only to help them steal more bones. They never think of all the better ways bones can be used.”

The Bone Poet & God

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The crack in the window let in the ghosts. They came with the night breeze, whistling their mourning songs and carrying with them the stink of rotten water that lay across the paddocks, down past the crooked fence that bent and bowed where the earth had sunk away to let the sea creep closer. Where the salt ate the grass brown, then grey, before the water swallowed it up.

Children of the Tide by Dan Rabarts
Tales to Terrify #272

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"Call me Ronald," he interrupted, brash and loud--uncomfortably so in these cramped quarters. His blonde combover floated ludicrously in the microgravity. Abigail greeted him and started to talk through the history of the space station, the international co-operation, but he cut her off. "I don't want to know any of that. I want to get a good look at America. Great nation!"
The Increasing Necessity for the Targeted Inculcation of the Overview Effect