Rob Gregson's Blog, page 2

Next Steps

At what point can a writer consider a book finished? I mean, seriously, I'd like to know. When does an author sit back and think: 'That's it; that really is as good as I can make it'? If experience proves anything, it's that such a moment can never really come.
I've just finished the revised second drafts of both my novels and, thanks to lots of helpful feedback from many indie authors (and those kind editors at Harper Collins), I have to concede that the new versions are considerably improved. They've donned the magical boots of critical analysis and have marched leagues ahead of the originals.
I'm pleased about that, naturally, but it makes me wonder how much further they could go. What new changes might a chance comment from an enlightened reader yield? What fresh re-workings might stem from a moment of idle musing?
More to the point, at what point does one put the keyboard aside and turn instead to the sobering business of marketing?
Rightly or wrongly, I think I might have reached that point. Yes, I could keep amending my two little works and yes, I could probably keep finding new ways to improve them. But that would risk turning them into a continuing hobby rather than a project with a definite goal. An endless fiction might be a fitting world for my characters but it isn't a place where a writer should dwell for too long.
With that in mind, I have at last begun the process of approaching publishers and that, in itself, is a new and challenging experience.
My first task has been to figure out a decent short pitch and whether to strike a balance between drama and comedy. Here, for example, is the 'drama first' approach. I'd be interested to hear what you think...
Myrah wants to know who she is.
Until now, she always thought she knew. She was the good girl; the dutiful niece. The quiet cartographer, forever helping other people to make their names and fortunes. But then a dying wizard tells her she once led a very different life; that her stifling world of quills and coin is no more than a fiction - an unplanned consequence of a magical quest that went extraordinarily wrong.
She's sceptical, naturally, but while dismissing the idea is the easy option, it might also get her killed. If the wizard's right, then her old past is out to get her and with demons and assassins in keen pursuit, surviving will mean learning the truth about a life she didn't know she'd led.
**
I know. Not very comedic. It doesn't scream 'spoof', does it? On the other hand, publishers are very busy people and brevity really matters. Compare those 128 words with my first attempt a little over a year ago.
Young cartographer Myrah discovers someone has been interfering with history. More worryingly, it looks like it might well have been her.
Unreliable Histories follows Myrah and her only-sometimes-intrepid friends as they seek to understand lives they didn't know they'd led. In their way stand hired killers, unreasonably angry warlocks and some very embarrassing relatives. Ideally, they'd like to escape the whole terrible mess - and if they can avert a war in the process, then so much the better.

While exploring the secrets of her hidden past, Myrah also discovers the answers to some important but seldom-asked questions. Questions such as:

Who keeps the torches burning in all those long-deserted subterranean lairs?
Why does women's armour always look so suspiciously like fetish-wear?
And why is everyone suddenly so obsessed with avocadoes?

This is a tale guaranteed free from lovelorn vampires, arcane prophesies and ancient-but-recently-awoken evils. It features no Chosen Ones, no boy-wizards and hardly any murderous demons at all.
At a flabby 159 words, that's far too unwieldy for the real world of pitches, loglines and query letters.  
So - another learning curve looms and it clearly won't be easy. This new phase of the authoring business is typically characterised by long silences, punctuated with the occasional 'no'.
 It's not a great way of boosting the self esteem but, on the positive side, it does at least afford plenty of time to refine the pitch. When that work can be considered finished is, of course, a completely different question.

The Bittersweet Joy of a Perceptive Review

I'm a little embarrassed. I've been outdone.

Whenever the topic of my books comes up in conversation, the most common question I'm asked (apart from "who are you?" and "will you please let go of my arm?") is what the two novels are about. What usually follows is a lengthy period of esoteric rambling on my part, accompanied by uncomfortable looks on the part of the listener and their slow shuffling towards the nearest exit.

In short, I'm not very good at summarising the themes and objectives of my writings. (Ironically, however, the preceding sentence is, actually, a pretty concise summary of the problem.)

However, a fellow indie writer by the name of Raymond Holland clearly suffers no such disability. At the end of June, having read both Unreliable Histories and The Endless Land, he wrote a review on Amazon.com, which you can read here. (Unreliable Histories review.)

I've just spent a few minutes looking through that review for a line or two to quote but I've decided that, no, I'm not going to do that. It would spoil it - and that would be shame because, like pretty much everything Mr Holland produces, it's a treat to read. Instead, I simply urge you to read it for yourself. Go on - please. Not because it says some very complimentary things about my books (although it does do that) but because it's fun. It's interesting and it's perceptive and, yes, honestly, it's fun.

Annoyingly, it's also a better summary of what I've been trying to achieve than anything I've ever written myself.

Oh, and in case you're wondering what he made of The Endless Land, his review is here. (The Endless Land review.)

Second Thoughts and Second Editions

For a long time now, I've been promising to release the revised second edition of Unreliable Histories and its sequel, The Endless Land . It's taken longer than I would have liked but the job is at last complete; both second editions are now online.

Each book is about 5,000 words shorter than the respective original and I've simplified some lines that were, admittedly, getting a wee bit straggly and bramble-like. There are also some minor scene-tweaks that give more emphasis to a young apprentice wizard named Tymacht Jul.  (Given that it's a pastiche of conventional fantasies, I felt the story should contain at least one young apprentice.)

The revisions have largely been the result of feedback from fellow indie writers and, most recently, from the Authonomy editors mentioned in my last post. It's always very interesting to gather impartial feedback, but I do wish I was better at identifying the common threads...


It's a difficult balancing act - trying to retain all the elements that people say they like whilst paring the whole thing down to a size and pace that more people are prepared to read. It's a job I've been attempting for the last few weeks and, to begin with, I really wasn't confident it could be done. Now, however, having shaved a few thousand words off each book, I'm happy that the heart and character of the story have been kept intact, but that the general reading experience has been improved. I'm biased, of course, but I hope others will agree.

Other Indie Novels:

One welcome consequence of having finished the second editions is that, finally, I have some free time - hence my immediate return to this sadly neglected blog.

It also means I can take the opportunity to congratulate Corben Duke and Mark Roman, whose co-authored sci-fi comedy The Worst Man on Mars made it to the Authonomy Editor's Desk at the end of last month. I'm extremely pleased for them.

Following close behind is Alastair Miles' Going Afterlife, which should very soon be getting the credit and attention it deserves.

A newer contender is Ray Holland's Letters from a Shipwreck in the Sea of Suns and Moons. An adventure tale, a mystery and a 'romance of memory', it's quite the most addictive thing I've read in a very long time. It's my current #amreading and, to be blunt, it's brilliant. Annoyingly so, in fact. That Mr Holland has a quantity of talent that is close to maddening. The book's not on sale yet but you can read it here on Authonomy.

Harper Collins Review

Anyone who's been here before will probably know that I talk quite a lot about this strange place called 'Authonomy'. It's a site run by the publisher Harper Collins and it's essentially a community of indie writers who help one another to improve their work.

Authonomy.com home page.Having this peer group of friendly reviewers is fantastic, making the site well worth a visit for any aspiring author, but there's the added bonus that the top five works each month get selected for 'The Editor's Desk.' (It's written with capital letters - that's how important it is. Some say the desk is made of purest gold and that the walls glow with an unearthly light...)

Anyway, my comic fantasy 'Unreliable Histories' was selected for The Desk at the end of February and the review came in a couple of days ago. I'd been a bit nervous because - well - this was going to be a professional review and who knew what they'd make of it? In the event, I was very pleased. It was thoughtful, it was constructive and, ultimately, it was very encouraging - to the extent that I've now earmarked most of Easter for a thorough edit/re-write. After all, who actually needs chocolate and bunnies?


I'm obviously cherry-picking quite shamelessly from the editor's comments, but some of my favourite remarks included:
"There are many aspects to this manuscript which make it very enjoyable to read... Your style works particularly well in conversation – characters bounce well and believably off one another, which makes for a smooth read. 
"There is some brilliant language here – language which, with some pruning, could prove to be a strong and rolling “historic” account with a twist ...
"Overall, I was impressed by the potential behind the plot/characters, the strength of voice and the depth of the world you have created.
"Trimming (the language in the opening chapters) could leave you with a tighter plot and a more readable novel, with real marketing potential. I hope to be able to read the rest of the work soon! We would be interested in seeing a full manuscript once the feedback has been incorporated."
I have to say, I'm pretty chuffed with that. Thanks to Harper Collins, the Authonomy team, and all my many indie writer friends.
The complete warts-and-all review can be read on the Authonomy.com website. http://goo.gl/95HCTW

A Word of Thanks

On 1stMarch, my first comic novel, Unreliable Histories, reached the top of the charts on Authonomy -  a site on which independent authors review one another's works. It's a large and thriving community, and each month's 'top five ' books go on to be reviewed on the Harper Collins Editor's Desk.
It would be fair -though something of an understatement - to say I was pleased. However, there now follows a nervous wait for a publishing editor's professional review.
Getting to 'the desk' was by no means the result of a solo effort. Scores of writers provided invaluable help and support and I wanted to take the opportunity to thank them. Their feedback has enabled me to address flaws that I would never have seen, had I been left to my own devices. As a result of their scrutiny and suggestions,  I have edited, clarified and re-written, and I'm sure the finished draft is a far superior work as a result.
Many individual writers have helped and I have thanked some of them personally, but I wanted to say a public thank you to Rob Wingfield, for suggesting I join the site in the first place and to the members of the Comedy Literature Only Group(CLOG). A finer and more supportive group of people you will never find.
Another CLOG member who is drawing excitingly close to the Editor's Desk is the talented and generous-hearted Alastair Miles. If you enjoy truly 'creative' writing and individuality, you could do a lot worse than to sign up on Authonomy and read his metaphysical comedy 'Going Afterlife.'
You don't have to be a writer to join Authonomy, incidentally. There are lots of people there who just enjoy reading and commenting on indie works, so feel free to jump in and browse. And whilst  you're there, here are a few other novels that are well worth a look. (Unless otherwise shown, all works may be previewed on Authonomy.com.) 
Aaron Gray and the Dragon WarBad BusinessDandruffHits the Turtleneck (complete; on Amazon)Elves and SuchEnd Time GentlemenEscapeFather McGargles(complete; on Amazon)God's CaptainLast Action ZeroMidge Fly and the End of the WorldMirrorsmithSaltusShow and TellSlow PoisonSoul HostsSummer of Forbidden LoveTeatime for the DeadThat Scoundrel Emile DuboisThe Book In The BottleThe Cotton SmileThe Exit ManThe Flatpack ObserverThe Legend Of GilangellyThe Origin Of Writing In The Footprints Of BirdsThe Private Rage of GeorgeThe SnobgoblinThe Suicide FaerieTall(er) Tales: The Legend of P.P. PirateThe Transition of Johnny SwiftThe Worst Man on MarsThese IthacasThis Iron Race: Acts of the Servant White Matter
These are just a few examples and, of course, I've only read a fraction of all the works on offer. The site really is something of a treasure trove. Why not have a look and treat yourself?

Fellow Travellers on the INCA Trail

Recent weeks have seen a pronounced rise in membership applications for the INCA Project. I mention this because I was one of the authors who help set this up (the key instigator, of course, being the irrepressible Rob Wingfield). It's good to see it enjoying a decent measure of success.

INCA is an acronym for Incorporating No Conventional Authors, and it's fast achieving its ambitions. It's growing to become an eclectic mix of independent writers whose works range from comedy and sci-fi to thrillers and erudite historical dramas. If you haven't yet paid a visit, I promise you'll find something there that will make it worth your while.

Although the site was established to support unpublished, non-mainstream writers, the INCAs were  nevertheless very pleased to welcome the great Robert Rankin as an honorary member. To stand in such esteemed company is a very gratifying thing, (although I'm trying hard to overlook the fact that his sales figures are so much better than mine...)

Alongside the renowned Mr Rankin, you will find a number of my now favourite indie authors. Some - like Andy Paine and Alastair Miles - have already contributed guest posts here on this blog, so I hope you'll regard them as old friends. Others, such as Corben Duke, Norman Morrow, David J Meyers, Darius Stransky, Jemahl Evans and Jeanette Ford, have finished books or works in progress that you can see on the INCA website.

One I should mention is Mark Roman, whose delightfully mad sci-fi comedy 'The Ultimate Inferior Beings' I have just read. A scientist by trade, he brings quite the strangest thought processes to bear on the story and the result is just brilliant. He is also writing 'The Worst Man on Mars' together with Corben Duke, who is perhaps one of the kindest and most supportive writers currently gracing the internet. The latter work is still in progress but you can check it out, at least in part, on Authonomy.

So, some fine writers forming a fine community. Please call in and see them some time.

Guest Post - Alastair Miles

The guest post series continues this month with Alastair Miles, who is not only a wonderful comic writer, but also the founder of the much-mentioned Comedy Literature Only Group (CLOG) on Authonomy. Part of a small and very select group of top-hat wearers, he has created an online community of writers that feels, for a number of us, rather like home.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the excellent Mr Miles.


"Why not write a blog?" Rob said.  Well actually he wrote it - or words to that effect.  But he may have said it too.  I don't know for sure.  MI5 won't tell me, they're too busy watching.

On being asked said question, I thought, "Why not?"  Of course, it doesn't help that I don't normally read blogs.  There are some exceptions, but it's been a good few years since I last followed someone's musings.  But Rob's a great guy and a great writer who has been really helpful to me on several occasions so [deep breath] here goes.

Ahem.

All I need to do now is find something truly deep and meaningful to write about…

No, nothing yet.

Or, perhaps, I could write about something that happened to me in my everyday life….

Again nothing, clearly I need to get out more.

OK, enough of that, I'm actually pratting around because, truth be told, I do have something I'd like to discuss.  It's a bit heavy and I wanted to have a bit of fun before I got started.  But let's get going – and don't say I didn't warn you. 

Basic freedoms and specifically, Freedom of Speech, are something that I, and I dare say you, take for granted most of the time.  And I don't think we should feel bad about that, in an ideal world that should be the case. 

The trouble is we can't help having boundaries as to what each of us considers acceptable and unacceptable.   This is natural, we can't help it, it's purely a function of nature and nurture.  The key is how we react to what we don't care for.  What should happen is that we simply ignore it, or switch over, or don't read.  In general, do nothing that supports or propagates a particular point of view.  Even better, argue back, express your own opinions.  Explain why you disagree.

What you don't do is threaten violence or, worse still, carry it out.  No one can be allowed to seek to silence those whose views they don't care for.  I look at any number of events in the news recently and I'm sickened.  From the tragedy in Paris, life imprisonment for Abu Hamza, even the vile threats against football clubs looking to sign Ched Evans.  In all cases, I'd far rather these situations didn't exist.  I also have my own opinions that I won't bore you with.  The important point is that we need freedom to act as we will, without that being torn down by threats of, or, even worse, actual violence.  There are many better, civilised ways to protest.

Most have heard of Voltaire's maxim, but I rather like the way Neil Gaiman puts it, “…if you don't stand up for the stuff you don't like, when they come for the stuff you do like, you've already lost.”

There's little point to life if we don't push boundaries.  Be it at work, rest or play.  We all need to try and go a little outside of where we feel comfortable.   It doesn't have to so far as to be Earth shattering, it's a personal thing, but we must have the freedom to do so.  This is how remarkable things happen.  This is what makes society.  That society can then argue over what it thinks and ideas stand or fall, but we're all the richer for it.

My own modest bit of boundary pushing is a comedy book called Going Afterlife.  It takes some religious beliefs and, well, messes around with them.  A lot of it is for the sake of humour, we all need to smile.  But, part of me likes to think that we don't have to accept the religious point of view put in front of us.  Whatever happens, or doesn't happen, when our time is up, I can (almost) guarantee it doesn't happen as depicted in my book, but who's to say it's anymore right or wrong than anything else?

The vast majority of people read it and have a good laugh and that's great, I'm happy with that.  It even makes some people think (I try to slide ideas in when the reader isn't looking) and that's even better.  What I'm pleased to write is that those with Faith take it in good humour, it's not always their thing but if that's the case they just stop reading.  That's fine too.  Some comment, some argue, politely, and I enjoy the feedback and debate.

The key thing is no one suffers.  No one is imprisoned or gets killed.  We're free to think.  And it's important that we never let that be taken away from us.

So there you go.  You can't say I didn't warn you.  And now, for some light relief (and a little plug), here is an opening portion of my 'great' masterpiece.  Think of it what you will; that's actually the point.

My name was Denton Smith.  That much I was sure of.

What was less clear, was how I'd come to be sitting at a large desk piled high with paperwork.
 
 In front of me, in the only clear space on the entire desk, was a form.  With no better alternatives, I picked it up to study it, before wishing I hadn't.  It required me to explain how I'd just died.

That's right, died.

I had absolutely no idea where I was.  Yes, I admit the form was a bit of a hint but rationality was hardly top of my priority list at this particular moment.  With an effort of will, I resisted the urge to panic and took a look around me.  There was little to see.  The room was cramped, there were stacks of paper everywhere, I couldn't even see across to the far wall.

I wondered again how I'd got here.  With my only clue being the mysterious form, I steeled myself to read it once again.

'The premature nature of your death during your prior existence requires the completion of a Post Life Incident Report (PLIR42/B).  Failure to file a PLIR42/B in a timely manner could result in delays in life reassignment.'

I tried to comprehend the meaning of what I was reading, but the words swam in front of me, as if they too were unhappy with the sentences they found themselves in.  I couldn't say I blamed them.

With the form a non-starter, I tried instead to salvage something from my wayward memory.  All I found was one solitary image, hidden away in the empty reaches of my mind.  It seemed to be the final moment of my former life and involved looking up at an oncoming train from what was soon to be an extremely unhealthy angle.  I had no idea why I would place myself in such a perilous position, but there was no denying the finality of the situation.

At this point I strongly considered the merits of going mad.  It was the easiest option, it would save a lot of trouble, and I already felt like I'd earned it.  The trouble was, considering that I had no memory of how I'd got here, and given the contents of the form I was holding, my claim to any kind of sanity was already dubious at best.  If I was cracking up, then cracking up was not all that it's cracked up to be.

If you want more, type "Authonomy Going Afterlife" into any well known, tax-avoiding search engine.

Note (RG): Alternatively, you can use the following links:
Alastair Miles (profile page)
Going Afterlife (preview or download the book)

Making the Cut

Editing. It's a grim business.

I'm currently working on the second edition of Unreliable Histories - a modestly restructured version that, I hope, addresses some issues that were bothering me. On the positive side, it's meant that I've had a chance to slot in a few extra jokes that occurred to me after publishing the first edition on Amazon, and it also afforded me the opportunity to break some fairly long chapters into smaller, fun-sized chunks.Much of this has been the result of valuable feedback that I've received from authors such as Will Once (creator of the marvellous 'Love, Death and Tea'), the CLOG group on Authonomy and some respected colleagues on the INCA Project.  There's a lot of experience out there, and some very generous souls, and I think that the new version will be all the better for the changes.
Nevertheless, it's a painful process. One of the objectives I set myself was to cut down the total word count and to reduce or remove sections that led the reader to stray a little too far from the central plot. The second edition will be several thousand words shorter (or should that be 'leaner'?) and should move on at a rather faster pace.
That has led to casualties, however, and saying goodbye to them hasn't been easy. Once such was Captain Perimann Gasp, (whom I introduced as an aside to illustrate the callous, self-promoting nature of the exploration business in which Myrah, my main character works.) Since he will be missing from the next edition, I thought I should give him a little send-off, here on this blog.
This is one edited scene of many...
... exploration was not a career in which the self-effacing, the decent, the shy or the honest could ever be expected to thrive. Perimann Gasp, for example, was a former state governor who, about thirty years ago, turned to seafaring after a somewhat unfortunate misunderstanding involving a stuffed swan and a young courtesan much favoured by several nobles at the regional court. Faced with a raft of bogus charges including sedition, outraging public decency and one logically fallacious count of bestiality, he fled to the Western Reaches, where he quickly proved himself adept at both navigation and cartography. Within just three years, he had mapped almost the entire coast of the Inland Sea, charted the southern edge of the Icebound Wastes and returned with cargoes of gold, precious stones and a surprisingly efficacious cure for frostbite. His downfall was not an inability to weather a storm, a lack of tenacity or even his advancing years. What forever quashed any hopes he may have had of attaining a prestigious place in history was in fact the same clear and analytical thinking that made him such an effective voyager. "A predilection for the prosaic" was how many professionals in the industry sneeringly described it. What they meant was that he preferred his names to be accurate and descriptive. Accordingly, if he encountered a fly-infested swamp, then his charts would read "Blackfly Swamp" and if he breasted a ridge to find a high mountain valley dotted with daisies, anemones and campanula, then the chances were that successive generations would come to know and love the place as High Daisy Pasture.However, the ruling elite was never going to be impressed by tales of forcing a trade route through Bluebell Valley or his exploits on the Plains of the Pony People, so what few friends he had urged him to spice up his names a bit. Sadly for Captain Gasp, such flummery was not in his nature and although he made a few vain attempts, his efforts were greeted with little more than open disdain. His penultimate discoveries - Mount Horrid and the Pass of Possible Danger - went largely unnoticed by the civilised world but it was his naming of an isolated seabird colony, the Isle of Boobies, that finally did for his reputation. As his sponsors drifted quietly away, he was shifted surreptitiously to a rather less public role and was fully expected to fade into seemly obscurity.As it turned out, though, that was not quite to be his end. Aggrieved and disenchanted, he was last seen heading south in a small cog, vowing to return to the site of his most recent landfall, there to explore the vast seas that lay beyond. As he stood alone on the rear deck of his vessel, the last that people heard of him was his voice, strong and defiant, crying out the name of the little island that he hoped to make his home.
And so, too, Captain Gasp vanishes from the next edition of Unreliable Histories...
He will be missed.

Book Goodies Feature

Thanks to all those kind people at BookGoodies.com who have just featured Unreliable Histories in their 'Humor' listings.

It begins with what is currently, I think, my favourite synopsis, followed by a short Q&A - i.e. "What Inspired You to Write Your Book?" and "How Did You Come up With Your Characters?" Those questions afforded an opportunity to witter on about fantasy cliches for a bit, which - incidentally - is pretty much what the books are about anyway.

The article ends with an excerpt from a scene in which Myrah and Al encounter a fundraising officer outside the Wizard's College in Tebit.

Oh, and in case anyone's interested, Unreliable Histories will be on free promotion on Amazon on Boxing Day.

Spam! Spam! Spam! Spam!

I'm not sure I've ever written a blog post with an exclamation mark in the title so this should go a long way to redressing any imbalance. That it also alludes to a classic Monthy Python sketch may be considered a bonus.

I was prompted to adopt this heading on the strength of a growing number of faintly bizarre emails that I've received recently. In one afternoon's trawl, I found several earnest behests to buy insurance policies that I very much don't need, others to spark up productive new relationships with traders in China, one or two invitations to commission SEO companies to send my "wesbite" (sic) soaring to stratospheric heights in Google's rankings, and several attempts to coerce me into visiting trade shows whose themes were so dull that they made growing my hair sound like a dangerously thrilling alternative.

I should point out that these all went straight to my junk mail folder. However, I do check this from time to time just to make sure that my various filters haven't accidentally sifted out, say, an invitation from an eager publisher or news of an unexpected nomination for a literary award of some kind. (They hadn't, but thanks for asking.)

Now the emails I've listed weren't all that bizarre, I know. 'Common or garden' is a phrase that probably applies. Anyone with an email address and somewhere to point it will be familiar with the experience of receiving junk of this sort. However, on top of all this quasi-commercial nonsense, I have started to receive a quietly disturbing quantity of messages themed upon the subjects of incontinence and haemorrhoids (a word I'm proud to say I spelled correctly first time without the aid of anyone at Microsoft.)

It's not so much the mere existence of these missives that disturbs me as the sense that, somewhere, the authors of all this junk mail are forming a very worrying picture of me. There's a woman calling herself Valentina who seems especially concerned that I should start equipping myself with a large supply of elasticated mattress protectors at the very earliest opportunity.

Perhaps they feel I've entered some significant new age bracket, or perhaps some pretender to my name has been spending an unseemly amount of time browsing through the 'assisted toileting' sections of some specialist catalogues. Whatever the reason, I get the feeling that someone or something has decided that this Gregson bloke really has some problems to sort out. I can only guess, but the idea that I have somehow managed to get myself onto 'a list' is not at all comfortable. Probably not as uncomfortable as haemorrhoids, admittedly, but tending in that general direction.

There's always a lot of talk about how craftily and cunningly online advertisers are able to track our progress across the web, forming ever more accurate and up to date profiles about our age, social status, blood type, hat size, favourite breakfast cereal and what sort of face we pull at the moment of orgasm. And yet, for all that, here I am, proudly continent and sound of sphincter, still receiving all manner of special offers relating to bed pans and waterproof chair covers. Either something has gone badly wrong or they know something I don't.

I should end this by saying that if anyone does indeed suffer with these conditions, please do get in touch. All this talk of strangely themed junk mail is genuine and I certainly don't want to make light of any affliction. Think of me as a sympathiser and perhaps, too, as a useful resource; judging by recent claims, it seems I now have access to "some of the very best deals on the international nursing and home-care market". I'm sure I could get you a voucher or something.

My personal profile, according to the email marketeers:
Income: sufficient to support weekly international flights by Sri Lankan Airlines and several well known European tour operators. Also sufficient to make fortnightly investments in luxury overseas properties. Nevertheless, a strong candidate for a payday loan.

Health: poor. Likely to suffer from haemorrhoids, incontinence, tinnitus and severe erectile dysfunction. Also believed to be afflicted by multiple industrial injuries relating to past employment. Somewhat clumsy: likely to have sustained regular injuries in public places as a result of accidents that were not his fault. Nevertheless, a strong candidate for eight different kinds of private health insurance.

Business interests: varied. A carefully weighted balance of Chinese metallurgy, fast food, pharmaceutical cleanroom engineering, electronic engineering, water and effluent management, dairy farming, low-cost website development, poultry farming and stationery supplies. Should respond well to invitations to advertise. Also very likely to want to receive offers relating to inheritances and investments - esp. Nigeria.

Education and training: unknown but likely to benefit from multiple, repeated offers of mail-order doctorates. (Academic disciplines largely irrelevant.)

Marital status: unknown. Almost certain to want to receive offers of love, friendship and marriage from ladies with Eastern European-sounding first names.

Domicile: exceptionally cold, draughty and thermally inefficient. Likely to be in desperate need of three new central heating boilers every week, bi-weekly loft insulation top-ups, monthly window replacements and the installation of high performance solar photovoltaic arrays at least once every quarter.

General character: massively gullible; responds especially well to poorly worded, misspelled and grammatically incorrect messages. Likely to produce an almost Pavlovian positive response to offers containing the words 'amazing', 'great' and 'unmissable.' Contact him now and watch your sales figures soar.

Almost uncannily accurate, isn't it?