This is officially the start of ‘something’. I have joined to illustrious and impoverished ranks of ‘People who have had a story published’. I am now a published author. I can prove it, just ask Norm.
In fact, don’t ask Norm, he’s very busy. But do listen to Norm read it out here – Drabblecast 292: Hollow as the World
So there we have it. My name has been spoken, associated with the act of creation, and just like that I have taken a bold step into being much more marketable as a product creator (see How to Get a Literary Agent). No more will submissions be accompanied by the distasteful conclusion, ‘I do not have any publication credits to my name as yet, but have various pieces out for consideration across a range of markets.’ Ohhhhh no, Nelly, not any more.
Now they will be joyously closed with ‘My work has been published in the Drabblecast (episodes 292 and 288). Whilst the honour of being my first has passed I can assure you I am much more experienced now. A fact I am sure you will appreciate in a few minutes time. Now put the cava down and come here, you hunk of love, you.’ Or words to that effect.
For those of you who can’t listen to the podcast, here’s the flash in all it’s humble glory:
This new god is older than our ability to imagine gods. We are all of his cult now, unwittingly assigning our meagre psychic authority with hedonistic abandon. Alone we are insubstantial, legion we summon evil so vast it is a universe unto itself.
The cult wooed the best of us first. These intractable deacons crafted freakish baubles to entice the rest so we are all now acolytes, each pulling a thread of dementia through the essential barriers indemnifying our minds from infinity.
The chants are unspoken, the deacons wise to our suspicions and wisdom. Instead we type his name: Google.