I know that for some writers, six short story acceptances in a year is small beans, but for me, never having had a story accepted for publication before, it is a source of amazement! There are actual books, other people's books, with my words in them!

At the same time, I know I can do even more than that. Four of those six stories are in anthologies produced by the madmen at Zombie Pirate Publishing. I owe them huge thanks, but I want to reach wider, and find more outlets for my fiction. Currently I'm setting my sights on Dark Ink Press, who have a complex route to submission that requires (in most cases) having something featured in one of their regular Dark Drabble collections — the next one opens this weekend, so I'll be on the lookout of that.

I've also had significantly more than six stories rejected in the same period. Some were wild stabs in the dark — things I had lying around that sort of fit a theme; some where specially crafted for the call in question, which is a little more disheartening.

Back in the day — when I was perhaps in my early teens — I used to make story books. I didn't know anything about book-making, so I used sellotape.

Recently I was at the Cymera SF Festival in Edinburgh, and I bought a book called Death Dreams at Christmas by J. R. Park. One of the stories Park includes in his anthology is one he wrote as a child, complete with scans of the original hand-written pages.

This inspired me to go and look out some of my own childhood books and take some photos. I took pictures of two, here's the first, I Bless the World

click the image to see the whole book

When humans go to sleep, the Night Animals come out to play.

Invisible cats are the bane of light sleepers. Though they cannot be seen, they can be both felt and heard. They delight in leaping from heights onto bedspreads, scratching at doors, and knocking small objects from shelves. Should a nearby human wake, the invisible cat will freeze, remaining absolutely silent until they start to sleep again — at which point the harassment resumes. Invisible cats live in family groups of up ten, who take it in turns to torment individual insomniacs. If you think you may be suffering an infestation, you are advised to throw catnip through your open windows. With luck the cats will follow, and you can then close the windows to keep them out. Of course, since they are invisible, you won't be able to tell if it worked.

Night Animals is an occasional series of strange creatures drawn from dreams.

When humans go to sleep, the Night Animals come out to play.

Dresserwinkles are molluscs the size of coffee pots, with black bodies and shells the colour of fading walnut veneer. They make their homes in wardrobes and chests of drawers. By day they lurk unseen amongst the empty shoe boxes and balled up sweaters that litter such places. At night they press themselves against whatever doors, panels, or drawer–fronts their environment possesses and — by means of their strong, muscular (but singular), feet — push them gently open. The night time creaks and groans of opening cupboards are a certain sign of dresserwinkle infestation.

Night Animals is an occasional series of strange creatures drawn from dreams.