Stuart Wakefield

You won't believe how good I felt after reading this!

 

The lovely bunch over at Magic Toy Books forwarded this on to me yesterday:

 

My Top 5 Stupid Review Comments

 

I appreciate every single person who buys my books, even the stupid ones.

After all, they’ve spent their hard-earned cash—let’s leave those lazy good-for-nothings who abuse the benefit system, and the illegal downloaders, out of this for now—on the result of my sweat and tears (there wasn’t any blood unless you count the Great Paper Cut of Chapter Five).

Unlike some creative folk, I read my reviews from time to time, so wanted to share with you my top 5 stupid review comments that made me chuckle:

 

Pride: The Equal Rights Blog Hop

 

My first experience in the LGBT community—and I’m not counting clubbing, here—was when the company I worked for was approached to sponsor Pride London. It was my first year as Chair of the company’s LGBT group and I would be expected to attend both the march through the city and the party in the park afterward.

At 29, I’d never been to Pride, let alone coordinate a blue chip company’s involvement with it. As far as I was concerned, Pride was going to be what those around me had branded as one long debauched parade of everything ‘wrong’ with the LGBT community.

 

4 Different Editors, 4 Different Edits

 

I thought I'd share with you how different editors work with four example of line edits on my first novel, Body of Water. I won't make any comments about each edit because I want you to draw your own conclusions but it's worth noting that all four of these editors charge the same rate.

 

Why Writing Every Day Works For Me

 

When I started a post-graduate master's degree in Professional Writing in January of this year (16-20 hours of writing and reading on top of a full-time job, a relatively new relationship, and a house to run) I had every intention of carrying on with my own writing. About 4 weeks into the course, I knew that was never going to happen.

I was wrong.

 

Why I Write

 

I found a faded folder of GCSE English coursework in the loft last summer. Leafing through my old assignments, the teachers' comments all suggested I had much imagination but didn't fully develop my ideas. At the time, I thought they couldn't see the beauty of my brevity but they were right. All my life I'd think of scenes, scribble a page or two, and then stop, unsure of where to go next. I imagined keeping your bum in the seat until the work is finished was a magical act. As an actor it was, frankly, easier to get up on stage, no matter how harrowing the material, and speak the words someone had transmuted through time and dedication into art.