Actually I enjoy trying to find and discover myself in hell. Become a writer

Cant wait to share this amazing story!

Got another short story accepted! For the inaugural issue of @folkloricmag.bsky.social. Love their subversive take on myth, fairy tale, legend, folklore, spec fic, so I'm honoured to be included. #specfic #weirdfiction #slipstream #folklore #myth #mythpunk #ecopunk #ecomonstrous #sff #writer #author

What else do you think there is to do for fun in life? Sodoku? Wordle? What about telling total strangers everything about your childhood thinly disguised as a character that you are also calling art?

#hobshit

More of this from lit mags, please.

Beyond delighted to have discovered @tacobellquarterly.org. I worked at the Bell from about age 16 to 27. I want to read Taco Bell inflected fiction. I want to write Taco Bell inflected fiction. I have stories to tell.

Started a short story possibly perfect for this the day before meeting these fine folks (they're local to me in Glasgow). Synchronicity? We'll see! #writing #writer #writers #fiction #folklore #litmag #specfic #callforsubs

"They let you smoke indoors in hell... the Bossman's not all that bad. He listens. He’s a horny critic but his remarks are acute. He’s long since had my soul in hock, so I just lean into that diabolical tutelage and keep crafting hackwork in the fire." #writers open.substack.com/pub/danielot...

I'm mostly here to write weird little ontological non-sequiturs.

I've got an essay in this volume, due out this year: "Towards a Blackfeet Biosemiotics of Postapocalypse: Tracking Ecomonstrous Transmotion in the Zombie Fiction of Stephen Graham Jones". #monstertheory #zombies #horror #ecocriticism #academic #biosemiotics #postapocalypse #stephengrahamjones

I've got a story ("Bugguts") in this volume, due out later this year. I look forward to reading the others included. #fiction #writing #writer #writesky #cronenberg #weirdfiction #bodyhorror #transformation #morethanhuman

He looks at this newfound dream cabinet, rubs a wet finger on a shelf, no dust. Only stardust. It seeps from subcodified silt (for yes, the cabinet is also a river) into his eyes, eyes unspooling in the fichtic zones of unlit suns. "Hello," he ventures. It is a tongue-tone. Licking stardust.

A bar of sunlight pulsed, voided, then pulsed again, enflaming her driftlocks a candywrapper hue and that glint of deepgreen sent a warm throb through his chest like a living finger rummaging through carrion for something precious.