You ever wondered why we are not rich? Well, some of you might be, not me. Now I have a theory regarding this sorry state. I am a lazy bastard. While I know full well that I can write, actually sitting down and doing so is fraught with peril. First, Facebook. Well, you ALL know what I mean. Meaningless posts that have to be answered. Witty, one line status bites. Games! Scramble, Zuma Blitz and Lexulous. I only play the three regularly, but it can take up a fair bit of my writing time. Then I need a cup of tea. Then the phone rings.
You Tube. Don't even want to get into that one. Especially when 'so called' friends with vile taste have posted links to crap songs on Facebook. You just know that you have to make your mark, kind of like a dog pissing against a tree, by sorting out their musical faux pas with a superior selection of your own.
Then, you look at the clock. If you're anything like me, you're already late for work. Yes, work. The dreadful place I am locked in for 9 hours a day. It pays the bills. It is meant to 'enable' me to write. After all, I get a three day weekend. The weekend means shopping and drinking and sometimes even the odd bit of cleaning if the rubble has grown too high.
So, I need you guys. You can literally kick my lazy arse. I buy books and spend far too much time reading the work of others. Often this is a rewarding way to spend my time. I sometimes feel very jealous, in awe of the obvious talents of others even. Just as often, I am stunned that the piece of garbage I hold in my hand, that I parted with at least eight quid for, ever got published at all. It is then that you need to kick my arse....HARD.
Help, if you want to read crime fiction with a twist, either come round to my house and point a gun at my head, or read my pathetic blog and share your thoughts. And if you are going to kick my arse, wear big boots.
I thank you in advance. Who knows that the night will bring?
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