I was thrilled to bits. No, really. Not just because I love what "The Alarmist" do, but because while getting poetry published in magazines is a difficult, never-ending chore, compared to getting short stories published - particularly short stories which err a bit too much on the long side - it's a doddle. Not only do short stories take up a lot more space, meaning editors have to put a lot of thought into whether or not you and your possibly dubious concept deserve 10% of their publication's overall page quota, there are also fewer periodicals accepting them these days. To be brief, if anyone reading this is tempted to give up writing poetry to write shorts because they think there's more money in other forms of literature and it might make them famous, forget it. Stick with the poetry while everyone is still saying "Ooh, you do that! I like that Kate Tempest!"
("Short stories?!" spluttered a poet friend of mine. "Why don't you just write a novel? It's easier to get those released").
Anyway, nearly two years on, long after issue 2 of "The Alarmist" disappeared from most (all?) bookstore shelves, here's "The Private Museum of Peter Gandalf" online. It's the only example of a short story of mine on this site, and this isn't something I plan to make a habit of, but I do have quite a few others sitting around my house waiting for a magazine or publishing house to take them. So it may not be the last one you ever see, if I get my own way.
"Climb that 'if', Dave," says a voice, "and it's so big you can see Croydon from the top".
"Shut up and read the story," I reply.
"You seem to have drifted into Peter Gandalf's tone in this blog entry itself," retorts the voice.
"Yes, I just re-read it a few minutes ago," I confess.
"Oh."
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