Bland is one of those words that has its own taste. Saying it releases a mouthful of tapioca like sensation, thick on the tongue, fat with its one dull syllable. Bland is also the word used by one person to describe my last blog post. Bland, I mused, as I saw the comment, flinching a little at the obvious slur on my writing skills.
Exams are about as useful as placing a number of objects on a table, closing your eyes and getting a friend to move them a bit and then trying to guess what has changed. In what profession are you going to be required to remember bits of information which are then not available to you and then required to repeat it all in a timescale of a few hours?
At a conservative estimate, King has sold over 300 million books, and what the hell do I know, but isn't writing a book without a clear plotline a bit like setting off in a car with a full tank of petrol and seeing where you end up? It may work out, but more than likely you're going to end up at the equivalent of the Overlook Hotel. In winter. Without a toothbrush.
They say there's a book in everyone, and there's certainly no end to courses and guides that claim they can help us unleash our inner epic. But what i...