Troll mockery: an unappreciated artform

It's horrible to have your inbox full of abuse and threats. It's not nice to look at your own stuff on any media network and see a load of obnoxious insulting bullshit attached to everything you've said.

But while the current frenzy over revolting insults to individuals on Twitter is being discussed as a polarization between Stop Busting Freedom and We Need A Boohoo Button, the concept of simply laughing at the sad little keyboard warriors seems to go unreported. And it's the same old shit of needing to 'protect' women 'n' children by restricting the right to say anything, anywhere, ever.

So I feel inclined to offer up a little list of sentences you might want to tweet and retweet at anyone spouting obnoxious nonsense. Taking the piss out of trolls is the option that seems to have been forgotten. Wonder why.

All these are absolutely free to use and share whenever applicable.

Hahaha woman-hater. Fail.

Your mum must be ever so proud of you

Oh look everyone! Inadequate needledick!

0/10. Check your spelling.

0/10 Try to come up with something original.

0/10 couldn’t be bothered to read to the end.

That isn’t physically possible. You’ve never had sex, have you?

Yes, pop round. I’ll have the kettle on and the restraining order ready.

Maybe you need to get out more. Ask for the tag to be taken off.

Everybody point and laugh, epic MRA needledick fail

And just KEEP POSTING every time some needledick goes hatstand on facebook.....

Finishing books (and getting back on topic)

I finished my book, OK? I finished my book. That's why it's been a bit quiet on here for the past month. 

Finishing books is one of life's Great Things or at least one of my life's Great Things. I did it a few times in my teens and early 20s, and though the books concerned were unpublishable crap (yes, of course they were, and of course that didn't entirely stop me sending them to publishers; at least I'm old enough now to know how bad they were) I still vaguely remember the surge of excitement at typing The End).  Finishing the first sort-of-proper book (ie the one that got published, even if only in 'magazine' format), Cathouse, was a bit special. I still remember sitting in the almost-deserted office, banging out the final chapter while the wind howled round the building and the office radio, rather appropriately, played Guns N Roses and Metallica... and then charging off into the West End and running shrieking round the pub telling everyone that I had finished the book, FINISHED THE BOOK. 

Finishing the second one was followed by another night in a West End pub, talking to a lot of vampires and grinning stupidly. This time round I felt the same, the best, the delicious surge of triumph even though I was sitting all by myself in a silent house with only Facebook to squeal at. I think the status update was 'Don't know whether to laugh, cry or throw up.'

Because on the one hand it's sheer joy: the work is done. And (because I am lazy and easily distracted and unmotivated) it's quite often been preceded by a lot of crying and swearing and sitting up all night as the deadline passes approaches and whoever commissioned it starts phoning or emailing and asking pointed questions as to its whereabouts, having actually completed the job is a source of relief.

However... I start to miss my characters. I start to miss worrying about them, and thinking about them, and fixing their problems for them. I get to a point where I don't want it to be over.

The natural cure is, perhaps, to write another book. Maybe.

(Surprised at this post? OK, well, this blog was originally going to be all about writing books and selling things, and that IS what it's really supposed to be about. It's not that the world has stopped Being Annoying, it's just that my blog is all about MEEEEE really. Mkaaay?)