A friend of mine suggested I stop trying to blog about writing fantasy fiction all the time and just blog about how I feel in general. He said it would make my blog a lot more interesting and give me more to talk about. Well, he has a point, but there is one significant factor which he is missing. I am a complete bastard.
Fair enough, I’ve never kicked a puppy or driven a lorry through my ex-girlfriend’s house, but the list of disgraceful acts of treachery and destruction perpetrated by yours truly is longer than the queue that would form if they suddenly made it legal to punch Justin Beiber in the throat. Suffice to say fear of prison is the only thing that has stopped me from hunting down anyone who has ever looked at me cock-eyed and kicking the piss out of them.
But I digress. My point is, since I started writing serious fantasy fiction, I have been a bit wary of letting the real Bol-tan off the leash in case he does or says something hilarious but despicable. Well, thanks to David Pilling‘s ill-judged advice, that is all about to end. Because Bol-tan is back, and he’s got a spot of making up to do, a few scores to settle, and he’s bringing intrepid reporter, Scrumptious Fandango with him.
So lock your doors and call the police, because the biggest drop of acrid-smelling acid rain from the world’s most repugnant shower of bastards is back. You can still expect the usual blogs about my fantasy writing – about Sorrow and The Best Weapon and more – but it will be sandwiched between incendiary nuggets of raw lunacy and downright I-don’t-give-a-fuck-wrongness.
This should shake things up a bit.