I’ll probably end up editing this at some point, but you really shouldn’t bet on it. Betting is a dangerous habit to fall into.
The thing in, this blog was born from another entitled ‘Is Anybody There?’, which, as you might expect, charted the chronicler’s need for a readership. This desire has led me to offer my skills as a writer to the highest, or more frequently the lowest bidder.
I’ve done instruction manuals, letters of introduction, children’s stories and once wrote a play in about three weeks. The thing I really do well, though, is wordy, casual nonfiction. I have a ridiculous vocabulary which leads me to pepper my conversational ramblings on the world with such words as ‘contraptions’, ‘scuppered’, ‘nefarious’, ‘anomalies’ and ‘misdeed’.
These alone are not unusual words. However, modest as I am, I do feel that I mash them together in a way which is altogether sexier than a lot of people’s attempts.
However, it does mean that you need a significantly high reading age to understand what I’m saying. Which excludes the love of my life, for starters.
So this blog, this tangled web of prose, it’s about me. Me, trying to get somewhere with this writing malarkey. Good luck to me, and good luck to you.