Writing – The Best Medium for the Creative Author

The world is in the palm of your hand. Be careful with it. If you think you’re going to sneeze, pass it to Bernard.

Image © Danilo Rizzuti

I’m a creative person, and always have been. If you’re reading this, you probably are too. I make no claims as to the quality of anything I’ve ever produced, but I’ve always been driven by an instinct and a passion to create. Ever since I was able to write and draw, and particularly since I was able to use a computer, I’ve been producing stories, poems, pictures, comic strips, animations, 3D characters, dioramas, and music.

At least 90% of the these things have been awful.

My mother liked them, but that was probably a given. Part of the trouble with trying to do everything is that you end up being good at nothing. I desperately needed wider recognition, and for that I needed to excel at something. I took a degree in computer game design.

It seemed perfect. I already had a million ideas for great games knocking around in my head. The course took my creative instincts, moulded them, and sharpened them. I understood the key creative principles and rules of the medium. I knew how to make a great game.

At least, I thought I did. After completing the course, it turned out that no-one wants to employ someone who knows all the principles, but has few practical skills. I’d been taught how to create 3D models, texture, and animate to an acceptable level, but acceptable isn’t good enough for a professional game studio – you have to be the best.

What I hadn’t realised while I was at university was that the people who were bound for success were focusing like laser-beams on the one element of game design that interested them, and becoming very, very good at it.

In retrospect, I don’t think this was ever going to be an option for me. Not only am I a total control-freak, but the creative impulse is too strong – if I can’t be the sole creative force behind a project, I at least need to have the biggest, loudest voice. People on creative teams tend not to appreciate that.

So it turns out that writing is a more perfect fit than I previously imagined. Why? Because I get full creative control, whilst having to be very, very good at only one thing – the writing.

Yes, I know we can break writing down into various subsets of skills, but as a single discipline it’s entirely possible for an individual to master. The same can’t be said for computer games or film – argue the merits of the auteur theory if you like, but writing is the benchmark against which all notions of the ‘auteur’ or ‘author’ must be measured.

Generally, most media production only allows you to be a single element of a much wider process. For some, that’s fine – they’re content to become masters of their particular domain. For others, that’s just not enough – they want to master the whole process, to become creators of whole worlds and everything in them, to set themselves above the gods.

For those people, writing is surely the only medium.

How do you make your creative voice heard? Is writing the only suitable medium for the lone author, or are there others? Why is writing the best fit for you? Click on ‘comments’ below, or e-mail pithytitle@live.co.uk

Writing Fiction – Do the Research (but don’t be constrained by it)

These headphones are conducting rigorous research – are you?

Image © healingdream

I recently finished the first draft of my novel, and I knew immediately it would need a lot of changes. I’d been constructing a unique fantasy world as I wrote, and the world I ended up with was a lot more complex than the one I started with – more complex, but not necessarily richer.

Mainly this was because I’d gradually created a culture based on the technologies of nuclear weaponry, opencast mining, and basketry, yet knew almost nothing about any of those topics. Thorough research was needed.

A good research plan, followed rigorously, can enrich your fiction – its settings, histories and characters – by adding background detail. Even if the things you learn never make it onto the page, having the information in your head will give you more confidence in the topics you’re addressing.

It may even be the case that you’ve totally misunderstood a subject, and you have to make major rewrites. Irritating, but better to find out after the first draft than when an agent or publisher takes it upon themselves to check up on these things! Don’t assume you know about something just because it featured in an episode of CSI!

At the other end of the spectrum, the research may open your eyes to so many new possibilities that your imagination is fired up all over again, and you can’t wait to make those rewrites. I’m delighted to report that this is exactly what happened to me.

One important thing to note is that research should enhance your writing, but not smother your creativity. Don’t give yourself so much research to do that there’s no time left for the actual writing – be tactical, and only choose topics that are central to your characters or setting.

Also, don’t feel that you have to cram all of the fascinating new information you discover onto the page. Only incorporate the information that’s relevant to the reader.

Most importantly, don’t aim for perfect realism at the expense of a good story. Rich, detailed fiction benefits from being grounded in some sense of reality, not from emulating it – that’s called a ‘textbook’ or ‘the news’!

Are you a writer? How much research do you generally do? Do you make a research plan? And how deeply does your research inform the finished product? Click ‘comments’ below, or e-mail pithytitle@live.co.uk

Writing Fiction - The Rule of Three

In Britain, the middle hand is very rude. Except when Churchill does it. Then it isn’t. For some reason.

Image © arztsamui

It’s been suggested that, because humans are wired to look for patterns, and because three is the minimum number of anything required to form a pattern, we naturally find structures of three particularly satisfying.

They’re short. They’re punchy. They’re memorable.

This is why narratives are often comprised of three acts, why fairy tales often include groups of three talking animals, and why characters often succeed at something on the third attempt.

This structure is now so ingrained in the popular subconscious that people expect things to come in threes, even if they’re not actively aware of it. They’ll become confused and agitated, like lambs at a bestiality rave, if a character takes four attempts to succeed at a task, or if the story unexpectedly concludes at the end of the second act.

As writers, we need to use this information to our advantage. I wouldn’t recommend making every element of your story crop up in threes, because that would make it surreal and predictable (an unlikely combination, and certainly not a good one); just be aware of it.

Anything particularly significant should probably have a whiff of ‘threeness’ about it. Perhaps the hero only succeeds in killing the Dark Lord on their third encounter. Perhaps he (yes, fine – or ‘she’) must overcome three distinct barriers to reach the Dark Lord. Or perhaps the Dark Lord can only be killed by destroying the three component parts of his consciousness.

People expect it, like it, and remember it.

That said, you can also use your writerly knowledge of the ‘rule of three’ to work against the reader’s expectations, from time to time. Unexpectedly kill the Dark Lord on the second encounter, only for the reader to later discover that he’s transferred his dying essence into the hero’s mind, and must be battled one more time inside the hero’s own psyche.

Why not check your manuscript to see whether you’re working with the rule of three, or against it. I can’t honestly say it’s something I’ve had at the forefront of my mind whilst writing Gwillum Hobnail, so I’ll be looking out for it (or it’s absence) myself as I work on the second draft.

Do you use the rule of three? How closely do you follow it? Is it important, or just a load of old guff? Add a comment below, or e-mail pithytitle@live.co.uk

How to Write a Layered Narrative–Some Suggestions

If you haven’t got the patience to write a layered narrative, simply create one by piling other people’s novels on top of each other.

Image © Paul

In redrafting my WIP novel, Gwillum Hobnail’s Affairs of the Undershade, I’ve come to the realisation that the structure of the narrative is a bit muddled. Having read it through carefully, it seems that I’ve been inadvertently writing three different, but linked, narrative strands – a primary narrative, a secondary narrative, and a meta-narrative.

By separating these out, both in my mind and on the page, I’m confident that I can tell a much richer story, much more clearly. The following principles could be applied just as effectively to a stage play, an epic poem, or possibly a very long scarf. Hopefully some of you will find them useful.

 

Primary Narrative

This is the main story, the one that’s driving the entire novel forwards. It takes up most of the word count, and is the primary focus of the reader’s attention and interest. It’s almost always going to be written in the past tense.

Every novel needs a primary narrative – that’s essentially what a story is. There’s plenty of excellent advice for general story writing out there, and all of it can be applied to the primary narrative, so without further ado, I’ll move on…

 

Secondary Narrative

This is a second, different, but related story, woven throughout the primary narrative. The two can be linked either directly through the narrative, or thematically. Sometimes it can be used as a ‘frame’ for the primary narrative, as in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, which begins and ends with Frankenstein searching for the Creature in the Arctic (secondary), during which time he recounts how the Creature was originally created, and how it escaped (primary).

Having a character from the novel narrate the story opens up all sorts of interesting possibilities, because they can be recounting past events whilst simultaneously alluding to related events happening to them in the present tense.

Alternatively, the secondary narrative could take place within the same tense and time-frame as the primary narrative, but tell of completely different events. These events may appear unrelated until later on, when both narratives converge, as in Pulp Fiction.

In fact, Pulp Fiction layers numerous narratives in this way. You too could opt for a tertiary or even a quaternary narrative, if you’re brave enough, and think you can avoid confusing the reader.

Just remember – there’s no point in having a secondary narrative if it doesn’t relate to or enhance the primary narrative. If it doesn’t do either of those things, it probably needs to be a separate novel.

 

Meta-Narrative

I don’t know if there is such a phrase as ‘meta-narrative’ – I may have just invented it, but it works. This is essentially a story that isn’t told directly, but is implied by the information strewn throughout the primary and secondary narratives.

Essentially, rather than explaining a sequence of events to the reader, you are allowing them to slowly build up a picture of these events for themselves.

For example, Affairs of the Undershade is set in a post-cataclysmic world. The events that led to the cataclysm (which in turn shaped the setting of the novel) are never made explicit, but there are enough hints buried within the myths, locations and conversations of the primary narrative for the attentive reader to form a complete picture.

Crucially, nothing in the meta-narrative should be essential to the reader’s understanding of the primary narrative. You can’t assume that the reader will be that observant. It’s just enhances the primary narrative for those who are.

 

Finally, after all that, I’ll say this – be wary of over-plotting! It’s all about balance. Probably.

Are you writing a novel? What narrative structure are you using? Click the ‘comments’ button below, or e-mail pithytitle@live.co.uk

How to Write a Unique Setting for your Fiction

There could be some orcs in those trees. Or a hen. Or something.

Image © Evgeni Dinev

Writing a fantasy novel is rewarding, but tricky. I’m currently on the second draft of my first fantasy novel, and one of the things I really want to improve on is the sense of place. I want the settings in my story to seem real, alive and vibrant.

To help with this, I’ve devised a Location Reference Sheet. There are various character reference sheets floating around the internet to help write richer characters, and I’m convinced that locations can benefit from the same treatment. Since I am truly the nicest, cuddliest, kindest man in the world, I’ve decided to share it with you.

The reference sheet is designed as a resource for writers of all speculative fiction, but will be particularly useful to writers of fantasy or sci-fi. It should help you to maintain consistency when writing about a setting, and help you find a deeper understanding of the locations in your story or novel.

The document is available from Google Docs as either a DOC or PDF:

Location Reference Sheet for writers.doc

Location Reference Sheet for writers.pdf

You can download the document by clicking the ‘File’ tab towards the top-left, then selecting ‘Download Original’.

The way I see it, the more detail and thought you put into a setting, the more engaging it will be for the reader. In the first draft of my novel, Gwillum Hobnail’s Affairs of the Undershade, the subterranean setting suffered from being just a series of big caves – because that’s what it was in my head.

Now that I’ve thought more about the history of the locations, the bizarre wildlife, and the unique challenges of living underground, the Undershade is shaping up to be a much more interesting place.

When you know enough about your setting, and can picture it in your mind’s eye, the evocative descriptions practically write themselves.

Are you writing a fantasy or sci-fi novel? Did you find the Location Reference Sheet useful? Click the ‘comments’ button below, or e-mail pithytitle@live.co.uk

Don’t Write What You Know

 

This cat is boring. Don’t write about it. No-one will care.

Image © Carlos Porto

To me, ‘write what you know’ must be the worst advice ever. Who comes up with this nonsense? Yet it sticks, presumably just because it can be expressed in a short, memorable sentence.

If I were to write purely about what I know, I’d either have to write a book about the tedious grind of being an entry-level chef, or a compendium of inane factoids about Doctor Who. Cynically, I’m going to suggest that most other writers probably have equally ‘understated’ lives. Did I euphemistically use the word ‘understated’ – I meant to say ‘shit-boring’.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that writers as a group tend to lead boring lives – I’m saying that humans as a group tend to lead boring lives. I happen to know some of them personally, and they just won’t shut up about it – sometimes I wish I had the balls to just yawn in their faces and walk away.

Anyway, most of us wouldn’t want to read a book based on our own tedious lives and useless knowledge, so why should anyone else? Sadly, I get the impression that an army of failed-authors-in-waiting are even now slaving over their fifth, unpublished, semiautobiographical work, about an ordinary person who solves predictable crimes at the weekend with the help of their cat.

I think the problem arises because people take ‘write what you know’ literally – a much better piece of advice might be to write what you understand. There must be an almost infinite number of topics I can get to grips with, without having first-hand experience or a university degree in the subject area concerned.

So I suppose this is my advice to other writers, and to myself – for god’s sake, DON’T write about what you know. It bores the shit out of the rest of us. Research something fascinating, bizarre or implausible, understand it, and write about that instead.

Are you writing a novel about an ordinary person who solves predictable crimes at the weekend with the help of their cat? Please don’t e-mail me at pithytitle@live.co.uk or leave a comment below. Just stop writing.

What Are YOU Looking At?

 

Image © Salvatore Vuono

Here’s a shocker – a post on my personal writing blog that’s actually about my personal writing, actually. No rants about our broken society or meandering diatribes on spoon-licking aliens this week. Instead, I have an interesting question for you, the answer to which has a direct bearing on my unusual manuscript. The question is this;

Can accurate visual descriptions ever undermine, rather than reinforce, the strength of a written narrative?

My protagonist, Gwillum Hobnail (who is also the story’s narrator), is blind. Not only is he blind, but he is slightly dim-witted, very susceptible to suggestion, and has only the most basic understanding of the world around him. Gwillum makes up for this with an overactive imagination. He fills the gaps in his knowledge and understanding with invented explanations, locations, words, and even people.

Despite all this, Gwillum is ultimately unable to give visual descriptions of his world, real or imagined, due to the fact that he doesn’t know what seeing is. When a visual description cannot be avoided, both Gwillum and I turn to his companion, Crawly Steve, a mute worm who communicates by tapping on Gwillum’s toes in code.

What I wonder is, am I doing Gwillum a disservice by regularly resorting to the one sense that he can’t make use of himself? Should I have the courage to rely on Gwillum’s limited senses and wild imagination more often? Will the narrative be stronger if the reader is truly forced to experience the world from Gwillum’s perspective? Or will the reader feel alienated without the touchstone of the visual?

I’m finally approaching the end of my first draft, and as time has gone on I’ve resorted more and more often to visual descriptions, and I’m concerned that the story’s unique selling point has been diminished as a result.

My current plan is to use draft two to re-establish the more eclectic and eccentric tone present in the first half of the manuscript. After that I’ll be sending it out to others for feedback – if they feel it needs more conventional visual descriptions, so be it.

So, what do you think? Can accurate visual descriptions ever undermine, rather than reinforce, the strength of a written narrative? Comment below, or e-mail pithytitle@live.co.uk.

Flash Fiction – 3 Sentence Template

 

Image © Ian Kahn

The great talent of Edgar Allan Poe has inspired me to work on some short stories of my own. It’s a welcome break from my novel, which is slowly but surely turning into a doubt-ridden grind. Also, there are lots of ways to get quality short stories in front of readers quickly, and it would be nice to receive some kind of feedback after nearly five months of going at this writing business in a serious way.

Since I’m essentially a dork, with an inherent love of systems and strategies, I quickly developed and implemented something I’m pompously calling the ‘3 Sentence Template’ for writing short stories and flash fiction. My theory is that I should be able to write three amazing sentences representing the beginning, middle and end of a story, then link them together as succinctly as possible, and hopefully end up with a quality piece of writing.

This is how it works:

Sentence 1 – Introduction

The very first sentence of the story should create an evocative setup that clearly indicates or implies the nature of the protagonist and setting, ideally in an unusual manner.

Example: Golden California sun crispened Eddy’s already dry skin, and warmed his blackened heart with the promise of hot, delicious, living brain.

Sentence 2 – Disaster

The second sentence, designed to appear somewhere in the middle of the story, should describe the most improbably gut-rending, heart-wrenching, hopeless scenario possible for the protagonist, again, as evocatively as possible.

Example: There was something almost restful about the hum of the motor, the purring of the blades gently displacing the air across his throat, and the joyful, expectant faces of the children.

Sentence 3 – Twist

This should be the very last sentence of the story. It should be punchy, ominous, and suitable for using as the punch-line to a shocking twist.

Example: Death was good.

Once I’ve written my three sentences, I proceed to fill in the gaps in whatever manner seems best. It’s a surprising amount of fun working out how you get from one to the next – sort of like a writing exercise, but you also get a finished piece of work at the end of it.

I’ve tried it with two stories so far, and I’m reasonably pleased with both. The first is called Two Heads Are Better Than One, and uses the example sentences above. The second is called The Good Boy, and actually has a complete, layered narrative, based on this method, using only three sentences!

As I’m hoping to get both stories featured on Every Day Fiction, I can’t publish them here just yet. I’ll have to wait to see whether they’re accepted but, one way or another, you’ll get to read them in the near future!

Do you write short stories or flash fiction? Do you have any quirky plotting techniques? Let the world know by leaving a comment below, or e-mail pithytitle@live.co.uk.

Rage Against The Myopic Classes

 

This is a picture of me looking intellectual and studious, so you know that everything which follows is 100% true and unbiased.

I like to write on the bus. It may seem like an unusual place to do anything that requires concentration, but provided Cardiff Bus Company has remembered to put on more than four buses, and I am therefore able to find a seat, I often manage to knock out a page or so. The bus is potentially a place free of distraction, where one can cocoon oneself in asocial productivity.

Potentially.

All too often, the cocoon is penetrated by the coarse, discordant racket of whatever disposable music the brainless arses of Britain have unquestioningly purchased this week at the behest of Radio 1, and now feel compelled to play to the rest of us through a zero-point-naught-watt phone speaker. When this happens, I stop writing, and instead spend the entire journey in a state of silent, coronary-inducing fury. Sometimes I quietly snap my biro over my knee and jam the two jagged ends into my ears in a desperate bid to block out Kanye West.

I loathe the sort of people that do this. I mean really loathe – and I know, in your heart, you do too. I’d go so far as to say that they need some kind of collective name, so that we can all direct our loathing more precisely. ‘Bastards’ would be good, but it’s a bit too broad.

The name should reflect the fact that these people are so dense, thoughtless and socially-unaware, that they either think it’s totally acceptable to pollute public spaces with their personal music preference, or they realise it’s unacceptable, but simply don’t care about anything other than the satisfaction of their own immediate desires.

I’d like to propose the name ‘The Myopic Classes’*.

The ‘Classes’ part is not something I’ve chosen carelessly. The class divide in Britain is alive and well, but it’s no longer based on wealth, status or breeding. The two-tier class system of today is based on education, empathy, social-awareness and civility. A stark divide exists between those who possess all of these faculties, and those who possess none of them. You can see it in some people’s eyes – two dispiriting windows into a mind devoid of all though and emotion, save for a burning sense of crass, hedonistic entitlement.

Sadly, I suspect that Britain probably doesn’t have the resources to educate every individual, and rehabilitate every community, to the level necessary for the eradication of the Myopic Classes. A psychotically optimistic Marxist might claim otherwise, but I’m a realist.

If anything, the situation is likely to get worse, not better. Already, for example, the government budget for free book programmes is being drastically reduced. This means that more undisciplined and culture-starved children will never get the opportunity to read for pleasure or enlightenment, as their feckless, Myopic parents squander the child benefit money on X-Factor phone-ins and Katie Price Signature Series Dignity Removers. It’s a cycle seemingly without end, and Britain is churning out vacuous morons at a frightening rate.

As you may be aware, I’m not a social historian. I couldn’t tell you how, why or when this divide occurred, but I trust the evidence of my eyes and my experience, and I can tell you without reservation that it exists. I’m sure you’ve noticed it yourself - unless you’re one of my mysterious readers in Malaysia, Brazil or Russia. In that case, I can only hope that you don’t have to deal with the knuckle-dragging zombies that most of us in Britain encounter on a daily basis. Who knows, perhaps Malaysia is a utopia of intellectualism and social enlightenment. Perhaps those lucky Malaysians have never even heard of N-Dubz.

The rest of us may not be able to relieve ourselves of the Myopic Classes, but perhaps we can relieve them of the tools with which they torture us. In a future post, I will bring together two seemingly unrelated subjects – social decline, and high-energy radio frequency weapons (HERF), with exciting implications for the future of noise pollution on public transport.

Yes, that’s right – I’m going to blow up some chav’s excrement-spewing phone with a homemade ray-gun.** Hurrah!

Has your writing schedule been affected by the Myopic Classes? Has some ignorant, foul-mouthed oik ever ruined your day in the pursuit of their own selfish agenda? Why not vent your entirely justified fury by leaving a comment?

 

* ‘Myopic’ essentially means short-sighted, unthinking and narrow-minded. Not knowing what ‘myopic’ means does not qualify you for membership of the Myopic Classes. Not caring probably does.

** ‘Chav’ is a piece of British slang, generally used in reference to exactly the kind of person I’ve spent this entire article describing. Feel free to borrow it for use in your country of origin. If you don’t have chavs in your country of origin, please tell me how you do it.

Book Review: The Neverending Story

 

Image © Alexandre Duret-Lutz

The Neverending Story, by Michael Ende, has ended. Furthermore, it has ended prematurely. This isn’t because the book caught fire or was whisked away by an albatross whilst I was reading it, but because the author has betrayed me, and I am giving both him and his much-loved novel the finger. How have I been betrayed? I’ll explain shortly.

First, in case you’ve been living in the centre of the Moon since the 1970’s, this is the basic premise of the plot; awkward kid steals a book and hides out in an attic, reading about the adventures of a not-awkward kid in a dying fantasy world. Awkward kid realises that only he can save the fantasy land, and enters the world of the book….

I gave up reading shortly after this.* Why? Because having spent a third of the book building up this fantasy world, introducing us to its rules and its characters, and inviting us to invest emotionally in its continued existence, Ende commits the bizarre act of ripping up his own story and effectively starting from scratch.

The entire world and everything in it is destroyed in an instant and made anew. The central characters are unceremoniously written out of the plot in a few throwaway sentences (and they don’t come back – I flicked through to check).

The one piece of continuity with everything that has happened up to this point is the continued existence of Awkward Kid, but within a single chapter, Ende changes not just his appearance, but also much of his personality, effectively making him an entirely new character, beginning an entirely new plotline, in a new world, with a new supporting cast.

Up to this point, I had already found the novel awkwardly written, and a bit of a slog (although it is a translation, which may be partially to blame). I’d found most of the characters to be simplistically-drawn ciphers, and the world itself to be an incoherent hodge-podge of fantasy miscellany.

The book had been very highly recommended to me by a friend, so I had been prepared to give it the benefit of the doubt, but now I’ve actually reached a point where The Neverending Story is having a negative impact on my life. I just don’t want to pick it up and carry on reading. I can’t be bothered to go through the tedium of forced investment in ‘Mark 2’ of Ende’s plot. At the same time, it doesn’t feel right for me to have two books on the go at once, so I’ve read nothing for three weeks – a sad state of affairs for a writer. I need to get back on the horse.

To that end, I’m abandoning The Neverending Story. The hideous grind is over. Goodbye.

Have you read The Neverending Story? What did you think of it? Am I being unfair? Please leave a comment below, or e-mail me.

*My understanding is that the plot of the film version also draws to a close shortly after this. Coincidence? Or simply an indication that I have exactly the same attention span as a Hollywood executive?

Everybody Shut Up Please

© David Saunders

I’ve begun to doubt the merits of freedom of speech. The concept was developed in an age before social media, which is quickly making a mockery of this hard-won freedom. These days, it’s just too easy for any witless chump to pass the most inane of comments, and for it to be broadcast immediately to the world. If people had to work harder for their voice to be heard, perhaps they’d take more time to question the value of their words.

As an example, here’s what Albert Camus had to say on the broad topic of ‘freedom’.

“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.”

Albert Camus lived in an era when to broadcast anything beyond your immediate vicinity required time, money and effort – only thoughts and words of self-evident value made it into the public domain. You may agree, you may disagree, but Mr Camus has, at the very least, given us something interesting to think about. He has made some contribution to our cultural understanding of a complex metaphysical subject.

In the interests of comparison, here’s a selection of what Twitter users have to say on the same subject.

“I've done all I had to do today. #freedom”

I’m pretty sure that not even my closest friends give two shits about whether I manage to achieve all of my goals today. That’s my business. This person has wasted their opportunity to use the unprecedented power that Twitter provides, by making a statement that need never have left the confines of their own skull.

“EARN UP TO $ 10 per 1000 views #money #earnings #visits #financial #freedom #paidtowrite #sites”

Twitter also provides the unprecedented power to take evocative words like ‘freedom’, stick a hashtag on the front, and twist them into a transparent attempt to scam the easily bewildered. Previously, some horrible little man would have had to actively waste his life knocking on doors and handing out flyers to ensnare people with the manipulative nonsense we now call ‘spam’. This is the toxic fallout that unchecked freedom spills into the twinkly ocean of knowledge.

“#anonymous Declaration - January 15 is the day to stand for #freedom http://t.co/natNjCW via @WhyWeProtest”

This is the biggest mockery of freedom of speech you’re likely to find. Thousands of anonymous keyboard-jockeys are now free to click the ‘retweet’ button, and instantly broadcast their profound support for ‘freedom’, without actually saying or doing anything that might cause them strain, either physically or mentally. These people are truly the kind of mindless, bleating sheep who should automatically forfeit all rights to a retweet button, and maybe buttons in general. I hope their trousers fall down.

It’s probably too late to backtrack on freedom of speech. Humanity as a culture is too convinced of its merits. Maybe we can’t remove people’s right to speak – but maybe, somehow, we can remove their right to be listened to.

The 10,000 words of Gwillum Hobnail

Today, I've been focusing on my book, Gwillum Hobnail's Affairs of the Undershade. To celebrating finishing chapter six, and passing the 10,000 word mark, I've created a word cloud - the larger the word, the more often it's used.

Can you guess what the book is about?

(Click the image to enlarge)