A Shell station at the Balhaldie service area.

Read to the end for literary constipations such as:

  • Two guys on a motorway discuss quitting their job;
  • Britain’s only fully-automated luxury petrol station (powered by AI, of course);
  • My commentary: how I feel being back in the saddle.
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A dotted page; a pen has been lifted from it. In the middle, the words, "Have I truly become a writer?" have been written.

If you read to the end, right now, within my lifetime, ‘cos I can’t be doing this for all eternity, you’ll get these three consternations for the price of one:

  • Oh, hey, I might get to write for a living;
  • Recognising my flaws as a storyteller, and what I can do about ’em;
  • Things you can expect on this blog soon…
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  • I tried to read Getting Things Done. It’s a slog, but it does have one thing worth remembering;
  • Productivity is about being more deliberate about what you do, not about doing more;
  • Whenever we see a piece of productivity advice, we should ask – “Productivity to what kinds of political ends?”
  • I’m writing a story. Maybe I’ll publish it one day…
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  • English is one of, if not the hardest foreign language to learn. There’s so many little things about it that are as though we’ve made them up as a sick joke.
  • The solution? According to one guy, do what we’ve always done: crib some notes from other languages.
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A stack of journals on my desk.
  • My (re?)discovery of journalling – and how I reclaimed it from instrumentation.
  • Good intentions – or, when other people think they know your condition better than you, but they mean well.
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