This is an industry of rejection and to be successful, an author needs to be able to never throw in the towel, no matter the hard road ahead of them.
K.T. Tate is an English author inspired to write speculative fiction and has been featured in a plethora of anthologies.
London, 2113.Racked by riots and ruled by corporations, London has grown to house over twenty-million people. Its limits stretch across the south-west of England.Pollution chokes the skyline, hiding the stratoscrapers of The Mile, London’s exclusive centre, from sight; though its gaudy neon signs penetrate the smog. Corporations rule after the collapse of the mid-2000s. The NHS, under strain from underfunding and the barrage of pandemics, chemical attacks and terrorism, found itself sold off, piece by piece, to the highest bidder. The augmentation companies moved in; buying what they liked. The National Health Bank rose, supplemented by other privatised care centres.
by K.T. Tate
I just wanted a muse. Something unusual to fuel my writing. But that dusty tome with its ancient rites gave me more than that.
It was not a muse summoned there, but a thing. Indescribable, even to a seasoned author in its unique horror. Stars burned and died within its shifting form. Its eyeless gaze burned through me, tarnishing me from the inside as I wept. The safe illusion of reality shattered.
Now it fills my mind. Taking up space, forcing me to write its heresy. My words spreading its gospel of madness. Please, I can’t stop myself, I can’t…