Lost in the Required Reading

Sometimes, the universe speaks to you.  Or that’s how I choose to see it.  I suppose it’s just coincidence, really.  It’s either that or I’m deciding to pick up on the same, repeating cues to assemble my own, personal breadcrumb trail.  It’s a way of making sense of the noise.  Or using the noise to make sense of yourself.

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If it pleases the court

Today we're going to talk about basketball.  I know, I know.  The fat, white horror writer fast approaching his 40s is going to try and talk about sport.  Not just any sport.  Basketball.  The fast paced, money spinning game that has millions of people all over the world shouting at their TVs over the squeaking sound of trainers on wood.  

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The Fluff Launch - What's a good word for Aftermath?

Either last week’s blog is incredibly late or this week’s blog is incredibly early.  I’ll leave it up to you to decide.  I’ve got other things to try and worry about.  Like, for example, where to begin?  Seriously, where do you start something like this?  Last Thursday, in a little pub near the ring roads of Birmingham, I got on a stage in front of friends and family and launched my second horror novel.  Which is not to say I threw a book at my friends at family.  Well, not physically anyway.

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The Fluff Launch - The Teaser Trailer

A great big hello hug to you from all of us here at The Blank Page Marketing Department!  
   As you’ll probably remember, we contacted you last month about organising some sort of trailer for your upcoming book launch.  We sent you an email, a letter and a singing telegram.  So far, we can’t help but notice we’ve not heard back from you yet.  We were really looking forward to a sung reply.

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The Second Pencil Case

   I suppose some people like to keep the defining north and south poles of their empires a little further apart.  Span a larger axis.  For whatever reason, life has really made sure I’ve kept my own poles far more provincial.  Hoping between two neighbouring counties, whose defining edges are so uneven that they practically border on incest.  Still, it’s okay, there’s some history around here.  Shakespeare wrote plays and poems not too far away, before commuting to London and possibly not existing.  Richard the Third, pantomime villain turned award winning role in one of those plays, slept under car park after forgetting where he parked his horse.  Alan Moore only lives one country over, sewing seeds of magic, myth and political mayhem.  Not a bad neighbour to have in these times.

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