Author: P.S. Bartlett

…when yeez have a coupla million bucks in the bank account, the mortgage paid, and no bills outstanding anywhere, yeez can pretty much suit yerselves what yeez do with yer day… that status is still to arrive for this ol’ Jurassic on an as-yet-unspecified future date… for legions of we quill-scraping virtual candle-lit garret dwellers such financial independence awaits our next multi-gazillion sales masterpiece… meantime, there’s WURK to be done… the apprenticeship for a modern-day wannabe Steinbeck, Dickens or Rowling never hints at the range of skill-sets required to burgeon into a fully-fledged ‘indie’… no mention of the scribblers gift being just the start of the journey… the brilliance of plot-spinning, the genius of word-smithing, the control of myriad character development themes… all of these commendable attributes merely the beginning of the happy trudge… and like the abundance of skins peeling away from a giant onion, the various bits…