Raymond G. Taylor
Bio
Author living in Kent, England. Writer of short stories and poems in a wide range of genres, forms and styles. A non-fiction writer for 40+ years. Subjects include art, history, science, business, law, and the human condition.
Stories (640)
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What the critic says
Ever-conscious of my limited talent as a poet, I recently wondered if generative AI could help? Not to write the poetry of course (please give me some credit) but to critique my work. To run through my draft, give an opinion on the quality of the work, perhaps even make suggestions for improvement. I thought I would give it a try and here's what it says about the poem I fed into the system.
By Raymond G. Taylor9 months ago in Writers
Beware the barons
Should you ever find yourself in the Surrey Thames-side town of Runnymede, it may be worth looking out for the monument dedicated to the Magna Carta. What is interesting about the Magna Carta memorial is not so much what it commemorates, as who it is doing the commemorating.
By Raymond G. Taylor9 months ago in The Swamp
Oh Jeff returns
Would you like your 'Oh, Jeff..." micro fiction to appear in a new book? Looking at some of the fabulous entries to the "Oh Jeff" unofficial challenge (Dec 2024) recently, I wondered what it might be like to put them together into a print publication.
By Raymond G. Taylor9 months ago in Writers
Stories in 100 words
A collection of Drabbles, stories written in exactly 100 words, written by the author Raymond G. Taylor. Listed in no particular order. Some you may have seen before, some will be new to you. All are written in exactly 100 words. Enjoy these satisfying one-minute reads.
By Raymond G. Taylor10 months ago in Fiction
Morning refrain
Striding through the early morning mist, I was soon high in the hills overlooking the village far below. Climbing ever higher, I once again heard the mournful melody of the pipes, as I did yesterday and every day these past weeks. Again, I strode on, anxious to pinpoint the source of the lament, to discover the lone piper whose daily dirge I had come to loath and yet love. I headed down into the valley, racing the Sun’s early rays. Alas, as always, too late. As the sunshine broke over the hills, the unseen player ceased, abruptly, his woeful refrain.
By Raymond G. Taylor10 months ago in Fiction
