Wot with being educated in sarf London, one left skool not well-endowed on the grammar front. Upon realisation of how the wrong 2 can leave a whole sentence in complete error—‘knackered’ as they say where I come from—I recoiled in utmost terror.
With great Gusto, I tried to get much better. Gusto—guess what—did really great, while I just mediocre. Correct me if wrong, I’ll be glad. But a two-way street it’s apparently not, as discovered to my bad.
How positive reviews for self-publishing services and products are easily obtained without being genuine and neither an outright lie:
A brief analysis of the Twitter numbers belonging to the Predator account used as example in The Trouble with Twitter Continue reading
Step one to understanding the value in self-publishing services and products.
On Twitter there’s a follow-for-follow ‘tactic’ used by many accounts.
They’re easy to spot, having almost equal numbers in follows and followers, and those numbers running into the thousands. Continue reading
After all the hours spent toiling over punctuation and grammar, never mind all the sleepless nights worrying about whether the plot’s as tight as a mouse’s arsehole, that’s a Hell of a statement to just fling in a budding author’s face. So let’s put the theory to the test: Continue reading
One burning question for anyone coming to self-publishing for the first time: how to format.
There is plenty of advice out there.
But which is the right way? Continue reading
According to punks of the 70s, the advent of something like the internet meant we’d all be living in an Anarchy Utopia by 2018.
But we’re not, we here with Donald Trump in charge of America, Johnny Rotten selling butter and David Attenborough not even a vegetarian.
What went wrong; is punk dead?
No, cos here’s some punk poetry right f-ing here instead!
Everything needed to know in under one-hundred and twenty-five words. Continue reading
There’s something that really bugs me about To Do lists. Once it was only a mild irritation. Then one day in a meeting the person sitting next to me not only did it, but kept going over what they’d done again and again to the point I’m quite sure it would’ve been ad infinitum if the meeting hadn’t ended.
Now just the thought of it drives me insane with a pure rage and utter fury, that much like a butterfly coming out of its cocoon, has manifested as the beautiful verse below:
A poem possibly about indecision more than anything else.