Will the next reader be THE ONE? Will they feel warmly impelled to tell a friend to tell a friend, 'You have to read this...'
Words streaming up from page, through eyes, down optic nerves, striking home deep, deep within your soul, nourishing need to feel self stretch, stretching, inspired, inspiring, inspiralling higher and higher, alive, engaged, alert, winning all winning.
Perhaps it's you. Perhaps, perhaps you are THE ONE. You out there - Hi! - fascinating you, you, impressive you, reading a life into your life, in this partnership of intelligent equals, this give and take of artistry and joy.
Draw closer. Don't be shy now. That's not close... Closer...
I'm here, right here, right now, behind this line, this word, this O! O! O! Watching you read through this pixie screen, essence to questing essence. Touch the screen. Reach out, do it, as I am reaching out to you this now with giving touch of living language in play charismatic.
To tell a friend to tell a friend, 'You have to read this...'
Words streaming up from page, through eyes, down optic nerves, striking home deep, deep within your soul, nourishing need to feel self stretch, stretching, inspired, inspiring, inspiralling higher and higher, alive, engaged, alert, winning all winning.
Perhaps it's you. Perhaps, perhaps you are THE ONE. You out there - Hi! - fascinating you, you, impressive you, reading a life into your life, in this partnership of intelligent equals, this give and take of artistry and joy.
Draw closer. Don't be shy now. That's not close... Closer...
I'm here, right here, right now, behind this line, this word, this O! O! O! Watching you read through this pixie screen, essence to questing essence. Touch the screen. Reach out, do it, as I am reaching out to you this now with giving touch of living language in play charismatic.
To tell a friend to tell a friend, 'You have to read this...'
"I'm here to tell you a story, a beautiful story you'll warm to love, in a beautiful sad sort of way.
Hi, Emma Saywell, photo-journalist who’s seen one too many wars. Caught him in the cross-hairs of ‘Broken’, my Canon. CLICK. Where was this going? CLICK. CLICK.
Only went to Kew Gardens to chill and take some shots in the Lily House - beats rocket attacks in Helmand. Afghanistan, Libya, Syria. Keep getting drawn back. Shouldn’t. The Lily House is beautiful. And so was he, my swift man.
Flying back to Syria tomorrow. Get the picture. Get paid. Follow the rules. Stay alive.
All he had was a pencil he’d found somewhere, a pad of paper, and this incredible something or other. He drew me in, literally. Was hooked, one swift summer.
It started slowly, but I so needed slow. Slow is good. You can’t be too slow sometimes.
Take your time. You’ll get it. I did.
My story involves a monkey puzzle tree, a rubbish bin, two opposed men, and these incredible birds…”
Hi, Emma Saywell, photo-journalist who’s seen one too many wars. Caught him in the cross-hairs of ‘Broken’, my Canon. CLICK. Where was this going? CLICK. CLICK.
Only went to Kew Gardens to chill and take some shots in the Lily House - beats rocket attacks in Helmand. Afghanistan, Libya, Syria. Keep getting drawn back. Shouldn’t. The Lily House is beautiful. And so was he, my swift man.
Flying back to Syria tomorrow. Get the picture. Get paid. Follow the rules. Stay alive.
All he had was a pencil he’d found somewhere, a pad of paper, and this incredible something or other. He drew me in, literally. Was hooked, one swift summer.
It started slowly, but I so needed slow. Slow is good. You can’t be too slow sometimes.
Take your time. You’ll get it. I did.
My story involves a monkey puzzle tree, a rubbish bin, two opposed men, and these incredible birds…”
"We've got to leave London. The success troll's sucking us dry. I'm taking you with me .. Jamie, Matt .. three of us.
We're leaving this success pit. I've got this vision: three doors. Stay with me. One for each of us. The doors only open in. Stay with me.
Yeah, it's hard losing your twin under the wheels of London. But this ain't about Carys. I'm doing this because I want to. Rhi wants this for Rhi.
They've chained one of those white ghost bikes to the railings at the roundabout where she was knocked off her bike and killed .. white plaque with her name, few wilting flowers.
No more intern-ships, Jamie. Stay with me! No more tick-box appraisals, Matt. No more faking it. I've got this vision for us. It's a Rhianon thing.
You said yourself, Matt. All about arse-licking. One part talent, nine parts tongue. Where's that MSc got you, Jamie? Unpaid intern, trading on your looks.
I got to your dad, Jamie. He's backed us. We're the proud owners of Hampshire's finest... "
We're leaving this success pit. I've got this vision: three doors. Stay with me. One for each of us. The doors only open in. Stay with me.
Yeah, it's hard losing your twin under the wheels of London. But this ain't about Carys. I'm doing this because I want to. Rhi wants this for Rhi.
They've chained one of those white ghost bikes to the railings at the roundabout where she was knocked off her bike and killed .. white plaque with her name, few wilting flowers.
No more intern-ships, Jamie. Stay with me! No more tick-box appraisals, Matt. No more faking it. I've got this vision for us. It's a Rhianon thing.
You said yourself, Matt. All about arse-licking. One part talent, nine parts tongue. Where's that MSc got you, Jamie? Unpaid intern, trading on your looks.
I got to your dad, Jamie. He's backed us. We're the proud owners of Hampshire's finest... "
A LIFE IN WORDS ~ biog
From Lancaster in Lancashire in the North-West of England, I did a law degree, but was destined for a career in words. I moved to London where I found a job as an assistant with a small specialist publisher.
Several copy-writing jobs later, I wormed my way into a reporting job with an American news agency's London office on Fleet Street. They let me loose on the coffee, sugar and oil markets. It was a great job. I'd made it. I even had one of those early mobile phones the size of a clog. And they used to send me to Geneva and Vienna to chase OPEC oil minsters around, or up to Orkney to check out oil terminals. But all good things must end.
The mighty Reuters was about five doors down Fleet Street in an imposing Lutyens edifice of imperial grandeur, and they paid a lot more. So I talked my way into the world's greatest news agency as a reporter. I put down roots and spent the rest of my glorious career in the arms of The Baron, as Reuters is known to insiders.
I edited millions of words written by hundreds of reporters from all points of the globe. I loved fooling around with their words, supposedly honing them into things of beauty, mostly just hacking them about. Still, it was great fun.
Meanwhile, I was quietly working away at my own writing for the joy of it, biding my time. Reuters was a news factory where words hurtled at you like trucks on some vast highway. It made me yearn for more poetic forms of expression, something with a beating heart.
I wrote ONE SWIFT SUMMER in 2001, touted it around a few London literary agents, to no avail, after which I forgot about it for a decade. Enter Amazon. I got some feedback for the story, which I then re-edited and self-published in Nov 2011.
Meanwhile, I wrote a collaborative story to keep my hand in and a second story of my own - IN THE ROOM WITH THREE DOORS - in which three twenty-somethings escape the pressures of London for the watercress beds and nightingales of Hampshire.
ONE SWIFT SUMMER also has a London theme, being a story of redemption set in Kew Gardens, where a jaded young war-photographer finds herself drawn into a wistful relationship with an enigmatic guy who can't stop smiling and glancing at the sky.
While not a long story, ONE SWIFT SUMMER has had a long maturation and, in spite of its title, is not a story to dash through, being unconventional and gently challenging. I hope you will find the outcome artfully enlivening, a nourishing read that will earn and deserve your enduring regard.
Ron Askew *bows*
From Lancaster in Lancashire in the North-West of England, I did a law degree, but was destined for a career in words. I moved to London where I found a job as an assistant with a small specialist publisher.
Several copy-writing jobs later, I wormed my way into a reporting job with an American news agency's London office on Fleet Street. They let me loose on the coffee, sugar and oil markets. It was a great job. I'd made it. I even had one of those early mobile phones the size of a clog. And they used to send me to Geneva and Vienna to chase OPEC oil minsters around, or up to Orkney to check out oil terminals. But all good things must end.
The mighty Reuters was about five doors down Fleet Street in an imposing Lutyens edifice of imperial grandeur, and they paid a lot more. So I talked my way into the world's greatest news agency as a reporter. I put down roots and spent the rest of my glorious career in the arms of The Baron, as Reuters is known to insiders.
I edited millions of words written by hundreds of reporters from all points of the globe. I loved fooling around with their words, supposedly honing them into things of beauty, mostly just hacking them about. Still, it was great fun.
Meanwhile, I was quietly working away at my own writing for the joy of it, biding my time. Reuters was a news factory where words hurtled at you like trucks on some vast highway. It made me yearn for more poetic forms of expression, something with a beating heart.
I wrote ONE SWIFT SUMMER in 2001, touted it around a few London literary agents, to no avail, after which I forgot about it for a decade. Enter Amazon. I got some feedback for the story, which I then re-edited and self-published in Nov 2011.
Meanwhile, I wrote a collaborative story to keep my hand in and a second story of my own - IN THE ROOM WITH THREE DOORS - in which three twenty-somethings escape the pressures of London for the watercress beds and nightingales of Hampshire.
ONE SWIFT SUMMER also has a London theme, being a story of redemption set in Kew Gardens, where a jaded young war-photographer finds herself drawn into a wistful relationship with an enigmatic guy who can't stop smiling and glancing at the sky.
While not a long story, ONE SWIFT SUMMER has had a long maturation and, in spite of its title, is not a story to dash through, being unconventional and gently challenging. I hope you will find the outcome artfully enlivening, a nourishing read that will earn and deserve your enduring regard.
Ron Askew *bows*