My Blog sits me down for a difficult heart-to-heart, questioning my loyalty, sanity, and ability to survive without posting imaginary conversations with inanimate concepts. I have to admit, it has a point. Not that I’m admitting it to My Blog.
In the latest of my thoroughly successful series to become a top money-earning blogger, I have turned myself into an inspirational Fitness Expert. Let my real diet be no reason to be sceptical of my frankly dubious claims! Let my true exercise routine be no reason not to buy the stuff I say you should buy! And let my actual body shape be no barrier to your willingness to follow my inexpert advice!
We all have something in common. We were once terrible writers. Perhaps you’re a terrible writer now. Perhaps you’ve never even tried. Perhaps you were a terrible writer last week, but have been something approaching genius since last Thursday. Most of us never find out. We should, though, because there’s a lot of value in bad writing.
The notion of artists working for free is a frequent hot topic online. Is writing or performing for free in order to get so called ‘exposure’ the great modern swizz which is destroying the potential of a generation? Perhaps that question has already been answered, because a lot of high-quality free internet content is disappearing. And it’s making me think.
Oh, dear. There you are, minding your own business, when along comes another needy whiny blog post asking for support. Do you want to vote for me? It’s doesn’t really matter, because I’m asking you to do it anyway. Which is only logical. Also, Donald Trump naked on the toilet. It’s true. It’s the truth.