And in the Morning

I hate this feeling of my head

Reeling, 

Of a throat dry,

An ashen tongue,

And acid reflux.

A hangover simply

Sucks.

Let's get it write, shall we?

How is that people always ask doctors for their specialisations but assume that every writer should have written a book? How is it fair to club all writers in one block but ask chefs specifically which cuisine they cook?  

For my consolation, I’d like to believe it’s ignorance. And now, it’d like to make things clear. It’s true I write to make a living, but I’m not that kind of writer.

So let me introduce you to some types which I hope will give you a clue on how you can spare a writer the embarrassment of explaining him or herself to you.

We begin with the classic, the typical author, the long-distance champ who can fill a book with a story. They are the culprits guilty of the stereotype, writing page after page chasing linguistic glory.

(So that's not me, just to make things clear.)

Closely following are the most fun kind of “writer”, the inspired millions who think they are literary. Their desperate-to-impress, mostly self-important, fantastical scribbling can make you "blink. Literally."

Next are my favourite kind, the script writers whom I believe are the underdogs. Their words are behind most entertainment, existing outside flat pages and inside stage blocks.

There’s the technical writer, the instructional designer, and the content developer et al; very different kinds of writers indeed. They’re perfectly suited to make a business look good and write stuff you wouldn't ordinarily read.

Closing my list up are copywriters and those who write short copy. They're usually punning and penning stuff that can be pretty witty. Their belief? Hey, why fill pages and pages when you can do with one-liners and brevity?

And that’s a small introduction to help you not mix us writers up. Please remember that just because someone's a writer, writing a book or blog or a whatever-writers-are-supposed-to-write might not be their cup.

Just be tactful next time, okay?

Issued in public interest to protect writers from stupid assumptions. 

We Are

The truth is that god does not exist
Outside of the material and mortal,
Somewhere in intangible heaven,
But is all humanity itself.

And god wears as many faces
As the races of man.

We are god,
And god is us.

The lie is death,
For eventually everything returns as dust
As pure fragments of soul that combine anew
To create another life.

And everything lives
Through those countless lives, ended and forgotten.

We are life,
And life is us.

But we're the devil too,
Become by the gift of free will,
Because what we do, bad or good
We choose to do it on our own.
   
And this is our heaven,
And this is our hell.

We are all,
And all are us.