59: The Year Of Tiny Food

The trick to becoming a top literary sensation like what I am lies in identifying when the public’s hunger for more books in a particular genre remains unsated. 

 Genres such as, for example, Gonzo Nutrition. This under-exploited literary form, typified by Morgan Spurlock’s Don’t Eat This Book: Fast Food and the Supersizing of America, involves the author living exclusively on something preposterous such as Big Macs or doner kebabs long beyond the point where it is advisable, desirable, or even remotely funny. 

Now, when I’m not crafting literary masterpieces I make a little extra money on the side as a journalist. Not the showy kind you see on television who wear safari suits while a pleasant-looking town explodes in the background. I’m the kind of journalist who operates undercover, as part of the paramiltary wing of the PR industry.

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58: Ghost Dog

You know what kind of book people really like? One with ghosts and stuff in. The really big sellers; The Exorcist, Dracula, The Bible – they’ve all got somebody coming back from the dead and causing hi-jinks of one kind or another.

Look at that Stephen King. He’s been banging out spookiness of varying quality since the early Seventies. Sometimes he dips into his bottomless well of ideas and fishes out an absolute cracker. Sometimes he just pulls up a slimy mess. But either way he publishes his spooky jottings and by and large the books sell by the skipful.

And books that sell by the skipful is – I think we can agree – what we both want. Stephen King is my kind of chap. And so are ghosts.

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Still on hiatus. Throwing out dozens of weaker ideas so that only the best imaginary books are delivered to your eyes.

A merry Christmas to all our readers!

New ‘books’ coming soon…

terriblerealestateagentphotos said: What an irritatingly brilliant idea for a blog. Give it up so I can do it instead.

What a terribly kind thing to say. Thank you.

57: Steve Guttenberg’s Bible

It has come to my attention that the best-selling book of all time was written, for the most part, during the Bronze Age. It strikes me as a major indictment of today’s literary world that no author, not even me, can get near The Bible in terms of units sold.

We don’t live in the Bronze Age any more. I challenge you to find anything in your house that’s made of bronze. We don’t even live in the Iron Age. Who irons anything in a world of near-ubiquitous sportswear?

We’re not even, really, in the Computer Age any more. The technology is disappearing into the fabric of things to the extent that it’s becoming invisible. We’re beyond mere materials. For future historians the most visible signature of our time will be that funny-looking lass off TOWIE.

We live in the Age Of Trivial Celebrity. Your book, or TV show, or diet, or prosthetic limb, doesn’t mean bupkus in the media unless you’ve got a celebrity endorsement attached.

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