Thus far, I’ve managed to resist the temptation to blog the weird and wonderful thoughts that roll around in my cavernous head here on Spalding’s Racket… which has been quite a triumph, as being a writer automatically means I like the sound of my own voice - and think everyone should like the sound of it too.
My will power has finally given up on this crisp Friday afternoon, and so welcome to what may – or may not – become a regular blog post from me on The Racket.
(Don’t worry, my insane ramblings will not usurp the purpose of this site, which is to promote my fellow indie authors. Think of this bit as a comedy aside to the main plot.)
Right then…
Bloody Christmas again, eh?
Oh, it’s fine for all you people lucky enough to believe in religion…but you try being an agnostic-leaning-towards-full-atheist at this time of year. It’s not pleasant you know. We have to suffer through all the commercialism, forced jocularity and ill-fitting sweaters without the warm comfort of faith. There’s no celebration of the birth of ickle baby Jesus for us, people. It’s just the unremitting misery of having to speak to relatives you can’t stand, the embarrassment of opening presents and pretending to like them*, and the sure fire knowledge that you’ll be hammered on cheap sherry and chocolate liquors by the time the Queen’s speech rolls around (at least for those of you in the UK).
A lot of people will be drunk on the sherry and fiddling with their brand new Kindles this year. Oh yes, Jeff and his Amazon cronies will no doubt be rubbing their hands at the prospect of all that lovely profit generated by Kindle sales – along with the cut they’ll make out of every single author featured on this blog and others.
And of course every indie writer is poised on the edge of their seat, waiting for the day after Christmas, when they can target every single one of those new Kindle owners with carefully constructed self-promotion paragraphs for their book(s). These will be unleashed on every forum and blog they can think of that the doe-eyed ‘noobie’ Kindle owners will be browsing over their left over turkey sandwiches.
I will be avoiding the Amazon forums, and the promotion sections of Kindle Boards and Mobile Read like the plague for a few days after the festivities**. It’s likely to be a f**king bloodbath. Good luck, folks!
***
A lot of people have asked me to review their books on this site.
Sorry folks, I just don’t have the time to do this. I won’t ever review a book unless I can give it a proper amount of attention, and I don’t want to short change anyone with a hastily knocked up review for the sake of doing it. The best I can do is provide a platform for your books that people will see…and then click through to the Amazon and Smashwords sites, where there will no doubt be reviews posted.
***
Call of f**king Duty.
Seriously, I hate it.
I’m 36, with a child, ex-wife and obscenely high mortage interest rate and yet there I sit for several hours a week, PS3 controller gripped in my sweaty mitts, with a look of rigid fury on my face every time somebody shoots me in the face in Team Deathmatch.
Don’t ever play this game – it’s like crack.
Especially don’t play Black Ops, the new one. Not only is it horribly addictive, it’s also broken…I get chucked out of games half the time and get connection errors the other half. It makes an already frustrating experience a thousand times worse.
I think I might start playing Cooking Mama on the Nintendo. I don’t know if there is online multiplayer for that, but I’m pretty sure I can beat eight-year-old girls at Team Cookmatch.
***
If there are any subjects you have a burning desire to hear my thoughts about, why not post a comment or email me and let me know? I'll be happy to offer my opinion, provided I'm not feeling to a) lazy, b) insecure, or c) drunk.
***
*For more on this, see my book Life… With No Breaks.
**This is a lie of course. I’ll be there with the rest of you, hocking my book and attempting to sound casual about it.
Hi Nick
ReplyDeleteWell, I posted a sublime, witty comment, which got trashed somewhere in the "logging in to Google" stage, which is a shame. I was quite proud of it.
But Christmas is a happy time (unless you're not, of course). I don't know why it's a happy time. The weather's cold, the days are short, and everyone has this stupid grin on their face. I'm sitting here looking at my sad apology for a tree (a 'growing' tree, apparently, although it's grown about 5 mm since two years ago).
You should be thankful you're not a Believer (why things like that have to be capitalised, I don't know). If you're a Believer in the One True God (capitals again), you have to go to a draughty, cold and echo-y church, sing songs that are decades old whilst standing next to some old dear whose ears are obviously not connected to her voice, and listen to some overweight, balding vicar / priest / pastor / preacher man, telling you all about what the "true meaning of Christmas is".
And we don't go for cheap sherry here. Oh no. It's a very nice vintage port. Same effect though.
And then it'll all be over, the bin men will be refusing to take bags and bags of discarded wrapping paper and Amazon boxes, and we'll still be bloody cold and miserable.
Happy holidays!
A nice summing up of the Christmas period there Gerald. Kudos (and possibly frankincense & myrrh) to you.
ReplyDeleteI fear some who read these musings won't be able to fully appreciate the horror of the English Christmas.
For instance, those of you fortunate enough to live in Australia, where it's about 30 degrees and sunny, will have no clue what we're on about. My jealousy of you knows no bounds.