“Peaches Geldof, I’m sorry the world is full of cunts”
Believe it or not, this sentence changed my life. It addressed an issue I’ve been struggling with for a long time.
Craig Stone, a phenomenal, undiscovered author who oozes a raw talent that could rival Jeff Cape’s biceps. (Anyone under 40 probably won't know who I am talking about – Google it.)
I had the privilege to interview this wonderful human in 2014 after stumbling across his blog by chance. I was immediately drawn to how he wrote, not because of his style or flair or anything really other than his brutal honesty, to himself and to the world. Don’t get me wrong, he writes with eloquence and his work is sublimely unrivalled – it’s just that I want to clone his balls and attach them to me like a good luck charm.
Writing from the heart without fear is a quality I admire because I still harbour an undeniable guilt for simply being me. Anyone capable of reaching inside their lower intestines, pulling them out into fresh air; waving them around for all to see, revealing all the crap which lays deep inside. Those people have my utmost attention because they do not entertain the fear
that retribution creates.
The point I suppose I am making is that to be a true writer and an even truer person is in finding your own voice; of using it as naturally as possible and of learning how not to edit that honesty as you type.
Finding my voice came like a trickle, a toe-dip in a murky pond; a peep around the corner of a dodgy back-alley, dark and full of ten foot tall opinions with faces like flesh-eating piranhas.
So, my own journey starts here, of baring my intestines to the world. I have to admit it’s liberating – if not a bit windy.
Just to warn those who may consider throwing eggs at my face especially when I touch on matters which resonate close to the lining of their own bowels – no apologies, this is what I have to do, and neither offense nor regret are on my bucket list.
Let’s see where this goes...