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R J Askew ~ One Swift Summer

Are we meeting up tomorrow night?

Again, I'm an early reader of this splendid book, and endorse it totally!

Again, I'm an early reader of this splendid book, and endorse it totally!"
Cheers Andrew, how are your own efforts going?

ASPARAGUS
I touched my verse just here to be
For you to feel that I'm with you
To love you well, a more, a more!
Alove to give to you to touch
To have, to hold, to know, to feel
Love's unconditionality
I touch just here and here for you
To feel alove a gain alove
To give to you to love you well
To be alove alive for you
To touch to feel alove anew
Love's unconditionality
I set to verse for you to feel
This true made love for you so real
your versir *bows*

Again, I'm an early reader of this splendid book, and endorse it totally!"
Cheers Andrew, ho..."
Not too badly - I'm up to 104 sales now. Things seem to have stalled rather, but that's fine. I had a tale accepted in a professional anthology coming out later this year, which is terribly exciting, and has drawn my focus away from the existing book somewhat.

Again, I'm an early reader of this splendid book, and endorse it totally!"
Chee..."
Well done on making your century. How did it feel? And what the hell do we do to get the next stage of the rocket ignited!?! WELL DONE on getting your story in the prof anthology. Kudos! I suspect we all crave that sort of 'official' approval. I confess I do. Being an indie feels like being some kind of rag-arsed guerilla sniping from some distant hillside.

I don't care much for the indie life, sadly, and I do crave that official approval. I think it comes down to having a great deal of respect for designers, editors, marketers and the like - they should be paid far more for their services than I can ever hope to offer from my own wallet.
Also, I was at a party with John le Carré's son Nick Harkaway last November, and faced with the best-selling scion of a burgeoning literary dynasty, a single .MOBI file with a pint of beer on the cover suddenly seemed a depressingly flimsy tally for two decades of scribbling.

Well, if 100 is the mean average, the more reflective median may be a lot lower.
Re approval. I harbour a dream of an agent approaching me. I tell her to wait outside in the cold. A publisher then knocks, I politely request him to join the queue. He gives me a slitherly smile and obliges, being oh so very obliging. When I look out of the window I see there are about 15 of them. I get one of my sons to go outside and sell them cups of tea and kit-kats. I then watch in amusement as a large steel cage arrives from ebay and a crane unloads it. I then tweet the queue, which now has its own facebook page n twitter account - naturally, and tell them to get into the cage and fight it out. Being a pack of honey badgers, they oblige. I sell the rights to the cage fight to Fox TV for an obscene fee. And then.. And then.. The last agent publisher standing - a BDSM fesishist zombie in gimp mask and ginghams (who murdered English at Jesus College Oxford)- staggers over to me. This is when the dream turns positively odd. I set said official to recycle the EU product instruction for a range of small-time electrical products. I film the publishing indstry official's ego crumbling as she taps away with a mock turtle toffee hammer. The film I consider putting on youtube. But.. Ach!
Boogger dem dynasties! And boooger all brands!

Like I say, a dream...

You cld increase the nervous tension by casually tossing your granade from hand to hand, grinning manaically like Private Pyle in Full Metal Jacket

my literary grenade has a payload of words. It can be lethal, but has been known to misfire

pull the pin ! I'm not exactly stuck on my FF .. I've just had to pause for life events .. did I tell you my company refused my bid to leave .. said I was 'too good to go' .. bugger .. must re-read Catch 22 to get a few tips on how to leave the war zone .. you cldn't lend me a grenade or two cld you .. a little outrage in the newsroom might get me my exit .. I suppose I cld always do a Yossarian and clamber up the atrium in the buff while scattering biz cards down onto the assembled audience of accountants and marketing brandheads for Watching Swifts

http://itweetyounot.com/ .
. don't think it's going to make it on Kindle though as the kindle just kills the visual feel of anything that doesn't look like a company report and accounts

http://itweetyounot.com/
.. all nailed down, I tweet you not!

http://itweetyounot.com/
http://itweetyounot.com/
http://itweetyounot.com/

http://itweetyounot.com/8.html
http://itweetyounot.com/8.html
http://itweetyounot.com/8.html

how should a writer see life ??
how should life see a writer ??
http://itweetyounot.com/11.html http://itweetyounot.com/11.html

http://itweetyounot.com/11.html http://itweetyounot.com/11.html http://itweetyounot.com/11.html

http://www.goodreads.com/photo/author...



(The term 'as pissed as a newt', should perhaps be 'as pissed as a mute', mutes being professional mourners who wld attend funerals as silent friends of the deceased, standing outside said deceased's house, or the portals of church or cemetery, to usher the spirit on its way with a solemn touch of high visual drama. It was customary to ply them with drink afterwards. Not a bad job, all things considered. For a resting actor perhaps. Or one of those street artists who pretend to be statues. Given a gloomy enough visage of course.)
-
TO MY MUTES TWO
-
Hail! silent sentinels of death!
Your hats shall be steam-punk stovepipes
Tall, black, outblacking black, jet, noir
.. shall be your crepe a-swadling heads
Beards dyed death adumbral, black inked
My ink shall die in every eye
Indelible not .. my life's run
And you, mute sirs, black-caped, silk-gloved
Stand, without my door, standards raised!
Black-draped and dripping doom, stand!
Mute, shudd'ring as you feel death .. pass ..
.
A drink in this for yous, I swear't
Adieu, mutes! you've stood me proud
Now to the bar .. let life be loud!
.

http://itweetyounot.com/8.html
http://itweetyounot.com/8.html
http://itweetyounot.com/8.html
.. satire *bows*

http://itweetyounot.com/8.html
http://itweetyounot.com/8.html
http://itweetyounot.com/8.html
.. from deep within the indie author mosh pit

http://itweetyounot.com/8.html
http://itweetyounot.com/8.html
http://itweetyounot.com/8.html
.. satire

http://itweetyounot.com/8.html
http://itweetyounot.com/8.html
http://itweetyounot.com/8.html

http://itweetyounot.com/8.html


http://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_...
http://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_...
http://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_...

http://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_...
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OK, so that is how it works. They send me their friend requests. I reply with a personal msg and then accept the request. I then never hear from the bulk of them again. Until! Until, o until! I am invited to join in their 'event'. Now of course, am I in a good state of mind to join the event? No.
Henceforth, I will send a msg BEFORE accepting a friend request. Only if I get a reply..
I will be suspicious of anyone who approaches me with 1,686 friends as I will know how it will be with them.
I will choose my friends carefully. In fact, I will sift through the ones I have and delete any who don't reply when I msg them.
Let friends be .. friends.