Graham Joyce
Graham Joyce
Graham Joycewas a British writer of speculative fiction and the recipient of numerous awards, including the O Henry Award, for both his novels and short stories. He grew up in a small mining village just outside Coventry to a working-class family. After receiving a B.Ed. from Bishop Lonsdale College in 1977 and a M.A. from the University of Leicester in 1980. Joyce worked as a youth officer for the National Association of Youth Clubs until 1988. He subsequently quit his...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionWriter
Date of Birth22 October 1954
Why can’t our job here on earth be simply to inspire each other?
It is, of course, the first recourse of every elitist to see social barbarism in others.
The overintellectualization of surrealism can be a bromide. A dream interpreted is a deflated dream.
Fantasy gets a mixed reception - a lot of fantasy is formulaic but most of the award-winning fantasy on the contrary tends to be the stuff at the edges of the genre, rather than swimming in the middle.
That's emails for ya: sometimes they're like an arrow that hits so deep in the target, you can't pull it out.
Perhaps living souls had greater phantom powers than the dead.
If critics of 'readable fiction' want literature to change the ways people dream, they need first to come down from the mountain and speak to the people.
I've been a professional writer for 20 years, and there are contours in that time, crescents and troughs.
It's just that to a lot of British people George Bush represents the worst of all things American. He's the right-wing Christian crusader, the toxic Texan who refused Kyoto, the poll-cheat eel who undermined democracy on the back of something called 'chads,' a notion we've never entirely grasped.
Repression in the human psyche is tightly bundled. When it has been pulled out of the sprung package so often it is perhaps difficult to push it back in the box.
Since I've been hired to contribute to the storyline of 'Doom 4' I can say what was always true anyway. I'm working. You see, for a writer, lots of stuff that doesn't look like working is actually working. Looking out of the window, for example. Balancing a pencil on the edge of the desk in order to find its exact fulcrum. Playing 'Doom.
If I couldn't get published tomorrow I'd still be writing. It's something to do with feeling so overwhelmed by this experience of life that you have to tell someone about it, and in a way that reorders the experience to make it manageable.
Rome is a place almost worn out by being looked at, a city collapsing under the weight of reference.
I've been playing 'Doom' for some years.