Anywho-be-do, what better way to return than with the help of a friend of mine, someone who’s had a book bubbling inside of them for quite some time and has just recently stepped out of the shadows of Authordom. Say “Hi” to Wayne.
Hi there! My name is Wayne Sharpe, aka: Bloomdell, to those on Twitter. I am the author of 'Humboldt's Tears' which can be found on Wattpad or by searching Barkermouth & Bloomdell. (Self promotion ahoy).
I am privileged to have been asked by Shaun Allan to scribble a few of my erratic thoughts across this here page on his blog. I'm flattered to think that anyone would be interested in my mental leakage. I would both, like to thank and apologize to Mr Allan up front for what follows.
It has been said that everyone has a book somewhere inside of them, I don't know who put it there, but there it is. The problem is, not everyone realises this to be the case and not everyone knows how to reach it. Like the proverbial block of marble, somewhere beneath its milky veined surface is hidden their very own David or their Venus de Milo, just waiting to be freed. Rather than a mallet and chisel they cry out for you to put pen to paper and tell their story. But so few ever do.
Well, like many before me, I decided to rise to that call and place pen to paper or more to the fact, fingers to keyboard and write my book.
But there it sat, on my computer, unread but by a few. My David (not quite a Michelangelo) had been freed from its marble bonds, only to be imprisoned by Windows (8.1, argh. Bring back 95).
Turning to my friend, Shaun Allan, author and creator of the marvellous Sin, I ask for advice and guidance, which he happily and freely gave. He pointed the way to Wattpad, our favourite online self publishing website. My book was released at last to roam free through the fibres of the web, to be read by anyone willing to give it its day. And now, like a proud parent, I watch on as people from around the globe journey through my creation. I found the book inside, I moulded and shaped it, and freed it. Job done?
All that said, I still feel like a pretender, someone who has written something, rather than an author who has published something. Yet I'm happy with this arrangement. I will allow others to make their minds up as to what title I should take.
I feel like a busker, a one man band, harmonica between lips, cymbals between knees and bass drum strapped to my back, playing noisily on the street corner. A busker who dreams of one day being a musician, a writer who dreams of one day being an author.
So, if you have taken the time to read these spilt thoughts of mine, please, look inside yourself, find your book, mould it, shape it and free it. Above all else, be happy and busk away!!!!!!
P.S. The distinction between biscuits and cake, is that, when stale, the cake goes hard, yet biscuit goes soft. So, when you curl up quietly to read your favourite book tonight, a hot coffee by your side, which do you reach for, the stale cake or biscuit.
I ask, is it hard or soft?
P.P.S. Innuendo should always be crass, otherwise what's the point. In your endo, oh yeah!!!!
So, there you have it. The musings of a good friend of mine. I'm currently reading, and enjoying 'Humboldt's Tears' - and that's not because I'm biased as Wayne is my friend. He wanted honesty and I'm honestly enjoying it.