Day 150 - The boot dream

 

When I was a boy, aged about ten, I had a dream which I have never been able to forget. On one of the family holidays in Cornwall I had this dream:

 

My brother and I were away from home on holiday in the caravan. The dream was set at the campsite where there was a fast river filled with fish. In the dream my brother and I went fishing in the river. It was daytime and we both stood on the riverbank with our fishing rods. Suddenly my brother started to struggle. He had caught a huge fish, it seemed, and the rod was bending so much that he couldn’t keep his balance. He was tugged into the water and floundered in the fast river. There was a heavy current and he couldn’t keep afloat. I watched with horror and didn’t know what to do.

Suddenly I felt myself being tugged towards the river too. It was some strange force. Before I knew it, I was pulled into the raging river. We both floundered in the water trying to stay afloat. I looked across to my brother and watched as he sank. Before I knew it his head had sunk underwater and he was gone. I felt so powerless. But before I could do anything I felt a tugging from beneath and I began to drown too. I was being pulled down into the river and I couldn’t stay afloat. Then it was just my head being pulled under the water. As one final act I looked up, gasping for breath.

And I saw the sky darkened above me. I saw power cables over the water. And perched on top of the power cables was a giant boot. And climbing around the boot were evil imps, I knew at once that they were evil. They were watching and enjoying seeing us drown. Laughing. And then I went under too.

My dreams and nightmares are often Kafkaesque – but this was among the first of those and had always stuck in my mind. Last winter, when my brother lost his use of language and the understanding of the language of others, I would sometimes think back to this dream as it seemed so pertinent.

In exasperation, I rewrote the boot nightmare – the nightmare which was haunting me – as I felt I was living it. I even prayed it through in the hope that I could bring a new version to pass. I wrote the following…

My brother and I are away from home on holiday in the caravan. We are at a campsite. There is a river filled with fish and we decide to go fishing. It is daytime and we both stand on the riverbank with our fishing rods. Suddenly my brother starts to struggle. I think he has caught a huge fish; the rod is bending so much that he can’t keep his balance. He is tugged into the water and is floundering in the fast river. There is a heavy current and he can’t keep afloat.

I watch with horror and don’t know what to do.

Suddenly I feel a force tugging me towards the river too. But although it looks as if something is pulling the rod, it is some invisible power which is like the most powerful magnet in the world. It is a force stronger than myself.

Before I know it, I am pulled into the raging river too. We are both struggling in the water trying to stay afloat. Trying to stay alive.

But the force has stopped and at this point nothing is tugging me under…yet. I remember what people have said. I am a strong swimmer. I know that my brother is a strong swimmer too, but it is as if that force is now tugging him under.

I swim to him and cannot understand what he is saying but I see in his eyes that he needs help. Using my strength, I reach under his chin and try to push his body upwards so that he is kept afloat at least. But the force is still tugging at him and I am not strong enough to save him that way.

I look upwards, at a loss. Above us I see power cables over the water. And perched on top of the power cables is a giant boot. It is ridiculous. A huge boot, resting on power cables, like something out of a fairy tale. Except to me, it is like something from the end of 1984 and we are to be crushed under the boot forever. The sky is dark now. Most ridiculous of all are the evil imps clambering over the boot and wires. They are laughing and pointing at us. I know that they are connected to the force.

In desperation I call out to God for help.

And we both go under at the same time.

The evil imps laugh in total victory.

Now we are both underwater. I am the first to realise that we can still breathe there… and it feels… safe. The surface of the river is like a shield against the force and the imps. There is life in the river.

I shake my brother a little and he opens his eyes, finally taking a breath. He can breathe too.

We swim underwater for a while, both surprised and happy that we are not drowning at all. That some more powerful force has saved us. On the river bed, among the weed, we find some gold treasure and swim to it, filling our pockets with diamonds and gold and pearls and sapphires and rubies and emeralds.

Looking upwards, the imps are still there. But they are no longer laughing. Now they are angry. The hatred can be felt. Suddenly, out of the river burst two angels. Water sprays our faces and we are again surprised at their appearance. They are bright white and full of dignity and power. They fly up to the boot and slaughter the imps quickly with golden swords. The boot remains on the cables but there is not an imp in sight. All of the imps have been destroyed and one of the angels makes a sign in the air, a swirl, destroying the force and the leaders of the imps in one moment.

Then the angels return to us. We have both survived and our pockets are full of treasure. The boot remains as evidence of what happened. Perhaps we will go back for the rest of the treasure when we have recovered from the ordeal. The angels disappear but we know that they will protect us until we are both old and full of years and will have to return to the final river, both of us believing that we will be able to breathe when we go under.

 

The prayers and re-writing didn’t work. And I cannot prove that we will be able to breathe when we go under. I wasn’t able to write or pray my brother free of cancer and death. 

I don’t want this entry to sound sad, it’s just what happened.

And the river flows on.

Day 129 - Kings and Queens

 

“The world is full of kings and queens who blind your eyes and steal your dreams.”

Black Sabbath

 

I’ve always been fascinated by the monarchy, even since I was a boy. Making cardboard crowns with plastic gemstones for jubilees. Looking at pictures of the crown jewels (now available in augmented reality from your smartphone).

It is hard not to be impressed by them. Well, not that hard, but you know how vulgar and crude those of us who are disillusioned by it can be.

Blame Spitting Image and every caricature in history (for which there really is a place). And university, where I made the mistake of listening while they taught me about the portrayals, symbols, pomp… and façade of the royals.

I won't recognise Prince Charles as a king until he is crowned. Put the crown on his head, anoint him with the most special oil (which has not been spat into) and that's when you become a king. Becoming king or queen happens when they put the crown on your head in public. That’s not much of a window for a one-man revolution. But, for a few more days we are leaderless as far as I’m concerned.

Surely nothing can go wrong? No-one is going to ‘bring down the whole edifice on their unworthy heads’ (to quote from ‘The Medusa Touch’) are they? And who is going to even plan treacherous acts against the new king in their head? Anyway, it’s illegal to think that way – look it up. (Although, it can make a pleasant meditation if you do not obsess over it. Try it. Just don’t follow up on it because that is called regicide… (Why not? Because regicide is like killing just one head of a hydra and you need to get to the power behind the hydra – which may not be Loki or Cthulhu (to mix my mythology)).

Have you committed thought-crime too? In a couple of days’ time, I may be so ground down that I will probably be on my knees, howling my allegiance to Charles III.

In reality I will be at my brother’s grave on coronation day. I guess I will have to watch the coronation on catchup. Unless I can listen to a little of it on the radio on the journey there.

I’ve read the coronation text. I can assure you that it is a spellbinding nightmare. Superbly written, if a bit archaic (funny how the word ‘archaic’ also sounds old-fashioned these days). The Prime Minister is going to have to read about how all of his Government’s power comes from ‘you know who’. The PM likely won’t be humbled, or see any irony in the way his actions do not match up with his words. Well, I can talk, but at least I have some self-awareness.

We may as well try to enjoy it.

And then there are going to be all those beautiful sparkly crowns, orbs, sceptres and swords. I’m mostly talking about the main crown, St Edward’s crown – the one which is symbolised on all those passports and post-boxes and the… oh so helpful…. GOV.UK website. A desirable item. Charles will also be given a special ring to symbolise how he is marrying the country… before the ‘consummation’ (because we have a great history of leaders making love to the soul of Britain don’t we?).

Dieu et mon droit. It means ‘might is right’. Only joking, it means ‘God and my right’… Meaning the right of the new king.

It’s a bit of a shame that so much of the church is now lumped in with the establishment. Blame Constantine or something. Some of us don’t like the optics. It looks bad.

I will recognise Prince Charles as a king after the coronation.

But very, very sadly, I will probably not be praying for our new establishment for a while, if at all.

I did manage to dig up a helpful quote from David Icke, the famous monarchy critic. He comments on his website: “Oh, do f*ck off: Coronation will include invite to public to swear allegiance out loud to King Charles – swear allegiance to a moronic bloke living off the people who wants to destroy freedom through the WEF??”

 

“The world is full of kings and queens who blind your eyes and steal your dreams.”

Day 115 - Why I remain a believer despite my prayer strike

 

A thief

A lot of things are ongoing and haven't been resolved in any meaningful way. My prayer strike continues. I continue to grieve and face the challenges, problems and curveballs of life.

Certainly, there have been no answers to prayers, but at this rate it would set an uncomfortable precedent for the Almighty, wouldn't it? If he answers the past prayers of one person who stops praying, then what if everyone tries it? Ceasing prayer to get prayers answered simply might not work.

You might wonder why I remain a believer. It is certainly not to reap the dubious benefits of being one. It is also not to get treated better by God or mankind. I'm remaining in faith simply because I still think that this particular faith is true. That there really is a God who became a man who is, as you read, up there in Heaven happily ignoring prayers and grief-stricken blog entries.

That doesn't mean I'm currently getting on with him. I'm not. Giving someone the silent treatment is not an adult or healthy way to conduct any kind of relationship. But as I know for a fact that God does it himself, it can't be a sin can it? Unless it always is, no matter who does it. Maybe it is – that would be a shocker, wouldn’t it? If God could sin. After all, negligence or cruelty are known to be bad things even when committed by kings.

David Baddiel’s new book defending atheism, ‘The God Desire’ seems to be doing pretty well and he posits that we create the things we long for, including a loving God (it's a kind of reverse argument from longing). I’m sure that if I wrote a book like that it would do a lot better than my book ‘Irony – Evidence for God’ (the cover of which is one of my brother’s brilliant watercolours). I don’t feel desperately mocked by my book and stand by much of what I said. Irony, including negative irony, really can be an evidence for the existence of powers greater than we are. But maybe that book would have done better if I were an atheist… anyway, we don’t always see the ironies in our lives.

Maybe I could settle for a nice level of agnosticism, or go for Islam which talks more about God being all mercy rather than all love. That would get rid of that pesky search for an unconditional love from a God who always seems to be demanding one condition or the other.

Or maybe I could just create my own faith and have a kind of altar to, 'The God whom man worships under many names and in many forms.’ Like the one in the meditation room of the Manhattan UN headquarters?

Or maybe, for reasons unknown to us mortals, the UN are hedging their bets.

It is all ongoing…

Day 108 - Storms and darkness

 

Obviously, I’m not alone in my prayer-strike. I’m well aware of that. Many people simply don’t pray or have never prayed and now I’m in solidarity with them too. This blog does not have some hidden agenda to get people to pray or not to pray. Not that I know of. And I’m really not praying. Talks have not resumed and the prayer strike continues. I don’t know how long this will go on.

I still think that there is far more shame than glory in this life. But everyone focuses on those who succeed, so there is an illusion that things go well for the courageous. For every ‘success’ out there, there are a thousand who feel far too defeated by the blows of life.

I think I’m largely expected to be praying again at some point. This is the expected outcome, but I can assure you that it is not a certain outcome for me. If my past prayers are not answered then it simply will not happen. The believer who tried atheism for a year ended up becoming an atheist. Stories do not always end happily. Or successfully.  

I should probably write about all the million and one ways in which practically dealing with all my brother’s affairs is at turns frustrating and onerous. I used to think that all of the messages coming in thinking a dead loved one was still alive were a cruel revelation of the way in which bureaucracy simply does not care. But that feels like the least of my worries. I feel I have little to offer when it comes to practical advice on dealing with the affairs of a dead loved one. Get them to make a will. Take one step at a time. It is ongoing so I can’t help much.

And this blog has been focusing on the spiritual side to it all anyway. When more bad news from some company or other comes through, my first reaction is to blame God. Who, I feel, has largely left me to stew. Thief.

What a loose cannon I must be seen as right now. Not holding to the party line.

Life is not calmer for me. It is still a hellish storm on the inside, no matter the outside weather. My mental health does not feel good. Spring has properly come - flowers are out and the trees are regaining their leaves which unwrap themselves like emerging butterflies. I like this time of the year, with the longer days, the bright colours and subtle smells of the flowers, but my storm has not abated. And in a way it is still very dark and cold in so many ways for so many of us. It is possible to wake with a feeling of hope in hope, but by the end of the day this is usually drummed out of me. The days often end in frustration, defeat and fatigue. Like trench warfare. So that even the illusion of hope feels cruel.

The country feels so angry and febrile. Everything here is glitchy or crumbling or breaking down. It influences the big and the small things. Bringing the usual frustration. Maybe it is just this country. Too old and too sick not to be falling apart. Not dead at least.

And the spiritual demons will kick you when you are down. Because they hate us.

So, what do you do with the haters?

Day 94 - Why I'm, very loudly... still not praying for anyone

There is no other way to put this – at my end, things are pretty grim at the moment.

In a week, I will be off to the funeral of my brother’s long-term girlfriend who became a friend of ours. It will be held at the same pub my brother’s funeral was held at, with, I think, the same speaker. My brother’s girlfriend, who loved my brother so deeply (and vice versa), will be buried in the same plot. In the same kind of environmentally friendly coffin. With coins over her eyes too (to pay the ferryman).

I very much do not like funerals. I have never liked funerals. I will do anything within my power to avoid a funeral. The Bible says that it is better to go to a house of mourning than a house of feasting. If it is talking about funerals, then I can assure you that it is not. Strange book.

What is better, a funeral or a party? You have to be a very particular kind of person to enjoy a funeral. Either way, I do not like them. Stupid traditions. A heavy burden to put on the grieving in my opinion.

Ironically (of course, ironically), the following day will be the start of the Easter holidays – supposedly the happiest time in the lives of believers. Better than Christmas (although I don’t think much could be worse than this last Christmas).

It hasn’t been a good decade. It has been pretty grim for most of us. Surely half of us are like the walking-wounded coming out of the pandemic? Those of us who survived are now facing war in Europe, the cost-of-living crises, the rise of AI, and lots and lots of bad news. We do not need more bad news. But it will likely come. Oh, and then there’s all of those people striking over one thing or another…

If I live to tell the story, I will say that while everyone else seemed to be striking against pay and conditions, I was on strike against God. Mostly about conditions. A little less pain and death please – maybe a few more answered prayers and more of that fabled love for us.

This could all be so simply resolved by the Almighty. I am not convinced there is anything useful that can be learned while we wait. And I was unaware that it was supposed to have been a lesson. Maybe something good will come out of the clear blue sky. Sometimes that happens. It really does. We don’t always have to be proactive, do we? Sometimes it’s nice to rest a little and hope for better days.

I will report back to you whatever happens from here on, whether good or bad. In the meantime, please stay alive and look after yourselves.

As I say, this could all be so simply resolved by the Almighty. One way or the other…

Day 87 - What happened next during my prayer strike

I broke the prayer strike. 

I prayed again to God for my brother’s long-term partner who was dying from cancer too. This horrible disease that you and I may die of as well.

I prayed after the hospice staff said that she wouldn’t survive the night. We had visited her recently, but had hoped that she would have longer. Before I had started the strike, I had prayed for healing for both her and Ad. For a miracle. She died 83 days after Ad died. On Mother’s Day. To be with Ad. She had faithfully and lovingly looked after my brother during his illness.

So, I prayed briefly, alone, a prayer just for her and her family. I asked God if he wanted to say anything, but noticed nothing in particular being said. At the end of the short prayer I said, “Goodbye” and resumed the strike.

When Ad died there had been an owl here. I’m not a very superstitious man, but I am a little superstitious (Remember, I believe in a literal devil). And it could be that God allows things such as owls as messengers of death, as many cultures have perceived them.

The owl had called out in the night near the bedroom window just before and just after Ad died. It had started a couple of weeks before. A couple of weeks ago I heard the owl, but just once, again in the night. Then, again, the owl called the night before Ad’s partner died. The call of the owl is strangely comforting in and of itself, superstition aside. But I cannot explain it. It makes no sense. It does not compute. There are many things outside of my understanding. I’m worried I will fear owl calls from here on.

It feels like deja-vu. Like going through the same thing again. All the nervous waiting, the fear of the news, the responsibility to tell others… and soon the funeral. A couple of people have remarked how tragic it all is. I do not think it any more tragic than any one of our lives. Ad and his partner’s lives were not so tragic. But they have both died way too young.

I don't blame Mary and the Saints or the angels. Even if it happened on Mother’s Day (Mary is said to be a mother to all believers). She has always struck me as a loving figure. They have an excuse because they are not all-powerful. I don't blame Heaven. But it seems that Heaven is only interested in seeing that God gets his way in everything, from the big things through to the smallest things. They know who butters their bread. If I were wise, I would act in the same way.

I am not so wise.

But I find it shocking. Is that the only reason people serve and praise the Almighty? Because he has the power over whether we live or die? That is no reason to serve and worship someone is it? That is like obeying a tyrant simply because they have the power to make you succeed or fail, or live or die. I had expected better of God. Is that all there is to him? Surely there is more to him?

So the strike continues, despite an attempt at talks. Comforts are few. Are we supposed to be noting them down in order to help others, even when our reactions vary so?

There are no parameters to life. How are we to prepare for these things?

What do I even hope to achieve by writing these things down to be read? Past prayers remain unanswered.

I feel I am being manipulated by benign and adversarial forces into praying again.

I am flagging.

Day 59 – Everything will conspire to cause you to pray

 

I have a strange relationship with prayer.

I was effectively in a mental hospital back in 1995 because I was so unbalanced that I thought I had to pray continually (ultimately, I believe, because of my past use of drugs at university (especially LSD)).

I would run off to places in order to pray. Eventually I was sectioned for it. It was not very nice. In hospital I continued to try to pray (often all night). I don’t know if anyone has ever attempted to pray all night – but I can tell you from experience that it’s very difficult. I think I managed it once. And after I had succeeded, I thought, Well done. And now you have to do that again tonight.

Prayer seemed to me to be the most important thing in the world. But whenever I prayed too much in hospital, I would get confronted by the NHS staff. They would give me the ‘choice’ of either taking my meds orally or having medication forcibly injected. I cannot express how difficult it was to pray after being injected with whatever they put into me via needle. But it was impossible. You wouldn’t have been able to do it either.

Afterwards I wrote this poem about the experience:

 

Compliance is Futile

At first, I resisted the doctors and the nurses,
I would pray non-stop and the tablets would be rejected,
I told them nothing. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
For this I would be injected.

They injected me on the floor on my knees,
I remember the needle once made me bleed,
but the drug in my system felt so vile
that I couldn’t keep saying my creed.

No martyr me then.
I learned that my behaviour was linked to my rights,
so I swallowed my religion along with the pills,
and started sleeping through nights.

I’d like to say I resisted to the end,
but Heaven knows I would then have lied.
You see, because I was scared and I felt so alone,
I complied.

 

There is something within humans which has the capacity to take things too far. Frank Bruno was famously sectioned for training too much. Punching, punching and punching and not stopping, pummelling his invisible enemies in the only way he knew how. Others struggle in different ways and obsess over an irresistible urge to do this or that. The conscience can get sick too. Another thing which God has allowed.

Afterwards I was a little more balanced. I decided that I would not let the compulsion to pray ceaselessly take over again. So, my prayers after that, though largely heartfelt, were much less lengthy. They were brief. But they were reasonably persistent.

There is a particular parable in which Christ likens God to an unjust judge. The parable is called ‘the parable of the persistent widow; and is about a woman who continues to petition a seemingly corrupt judge to attain justice for some problem or other. Perhaps it is as well that God is likened to this particular judge. It seems appropriate to me these days.

The point of the parable is to encourage people to pray and not to give up. There are other scriptures which say that believers are to pray and not cease. Certainly not to go on a prayer strike. So, I know I am being disobedient to those parts of the Bible. But let’s face it, how often have I been obedient to the command to love? Also, according to the Bible (and the creed), there is only one condition to being a Christian anyway. That is belief, or faith. The rest is small print.

I still believe. But I ask you this – if it’s all about Jesus – then why is it all about him, apart from the blame or other bad things? There are a million and one books out there with titles like, ‘Stop blaming God’. But if Christ only wants the good things, what kind of relationship is that? He should take some responsibility and be more accountable.

I could probably not write a book about prayer. The trouble is that people tend to be naturally interested in having their prayers answered. So, if the author has not had that many prayers answered, no-one is going to be interested, are they?

Any strike has demands for work to resume. In this case the demands are obvious – God has to answer my past prayers – the main ones I had been praying before the strike. Furthermore, I am demanding better treatment from him for us all. It’s not unreasonable. A few answered prayers and better conditions. As some of the prayers do not concern myself, it’s not entirely selfish.

They are the parameters for things not to escalate further. Otherwise, I will continue to kick up a holy fuss about this as imaginatively as I can.

I wonder what I should give up for Lent.

Or perhaps they will put me back in hospital and inject me until I start praying again? I’m quite sure God would allow that too.

Day 52 - My strike against the Almighty

Day 52

I think it’s true that we all grieve differently. Since my only brother died from a brain tumour on Christmas day, I have been prayerless. 

They say I should let God know that I’m angry with him. Through prayer.

I’m not doing that. It’s manipulative.

Instead, the temptation for me is to escalate things further and become an ex-Christian.

Except I would be the worse ex-Christian ever because I would still believe. I’m pretty sure I know how to leave the faith, but what’s the point? There are some very lovely ex-Christians. The human rights act says that any person can leave any faith (or presumably return to it). But it’s a bit of a no-no within most faith communities.

There are usually mitigating circumstances in someone making a decision like that. Besides, there isn’t a court of law which will accept a testimony under duress is there? Confessions under torture (even the slow torture of capitalism) are not evidence.

Anyway, my threatening to pack it all in is no more of a threat than anything the Almighty says… except at least I admit it’s a threat. Does that make me the better person?

It’s tempting though. The ex-Christians largely say that they feel much freer now and I would like that too. To feel free. Because that’s just another seemingly broken promise from the Almighty, isn’t it? The truth will set you free. But when?

Maybe in a year’s time I will be like the writer who decided that he was going to try Atheism for a year and will have left the faith by then too? Options are open.

 

Strikes

So the prayer strike continues. I had already effectively stopped taking communion. For me it was all those scary scriptures about taking it unworthily. Now it’s just part of my strike against God. But I’m still going to church online – to me it is one of the picket lines. A good place to stare at crosses.

I’ve been prayerless before anyway. For the first 20 years of my life, I resisted the urge to appeal to a higher power. People do it, or rather… don’t do it… all the time, and they seem to get on with life pretty normally. Some of them even thrive. So what if the majority of my life has been about sporadically trying to communicate with God?

I swear that God has a policy when it comes to dealing with those who have lost loved ones. In that sense we are just another statistic. Way to go, to make us all feel special in a good way…

…I was going to write the word ‘God’ at the end of that last sentence but realised it would have been a written prayer. And I don’t do that anymore.

Maybe he particularly likes the kind of person who turns to him immediately afterwards, thanks him for the person’s life and says something like: ‘You give and take away, blessed be your name, Lord’. Maybe that’s the best way to go about things. To steal away the prayers along with the loved ones.

The thief.

 

Promises

For believers, there are a couple of promises from the Bible here and there which act like a sop. The main one being, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”

But I’m, like, “When?” (Once again, without adding the word ‘God’ to the end of the question.)

It's a promise. It’s a little comforting in and of itself, but that’s all. There are a number of promises from the Almighty like that, according to the Christian faith.

But why praise and thank someone who promises to do something before they have actually done it? Few people thank a waiter before they have served a meal.

Giving God the silent treatment has not resulted in much which is particularly good. Am I to count my blessings again? Is giving someone the silent treatment always a manipulation? If God refuses to communicate with a person on earth, is the silent treatment still a sin? Or is it okay, because it’s God who has done (or not done) it? They say that God is always speaking and we don’t stop to listen. But he’s not though, is he? That’s never been my experience anyway.

We learn the silent treatment from others.

So, I’m left with, “Blessed are those who mourn…”

They say that the word ‘blessed’ means ‘happy’.

I wonder sometimes, if I have tumbled into some alternate reality in which nothing is as it should be.

There have already been some moments when I’ve felt I should have prayed. I’ve been in situations and heard some general requests for prayer from others which I would previously have said a brief arrow-prayer for.

Earthquake

In the end, with the earthquake, I felt bad for all those people in that hell on earth. I didn’t pray, but I gave £1. It wasn’t much, but I’m not rich, there’s a cost-of-living crisis still on, and I’m not a great giver financially to charities and things. I give information and writing as freely as I can and try to give in other ways – petitions and things. I haven’t given up attempting to do good deeds. The strike does not extend that far. Yet.

War

It's nice, too, to see that almost the whole Church has effectively joined me in my strike. I wouldn’t have done so myself but they are largely refusing to pray for the people of Russia in public. But as I mentioned, I don’t really want others to join me in this lonely, austere task. And I think it’s a bit of a shame that in war time we are no longer allowed to express love for our latest Government-manufactured enemies.

 

Anyway, it seems that God isn’t bothered by my silent treatment towards him.

So he won’t mind if I continue then, will he?

 

Freelance Writer - Nick White Writing

Today I’m setting up my freelance writing business. So this is the launch of Nick White Writing. What has largely been a hobby should, from here on, be a comprehensive writing service.

Back in the noughties I was a freelance journalist for a while so I have an idea of what to expect. I also have the professional training, experience and qualifications. I retrained recently to update my skills for online work.

My specialties are going to be the things I have in-depth knowledge about, which are:

•          Spirituality, faith and Christianity
•          Writing itself (most fields/genres)
•           Mental health
•           eBook publishing

Along with these subjects I also have good knowledge of computing (including retro gaming), folk-lore, poetry, guinea pigs, cats, politics, current affairs, revivals/awakenings, psychology, eschatology (end-times) and musicals (especially Sondheim). I’m not sure there is currently much of a market for eschatology, Sondheim and revivals/awakenings – but someone has got to know about these things!

I’m also planning to expand my knowledge-base with further research.

So, if you, or anyone you know needs any copywriting, proof-reading or editing done for websites, books, newsletters or anything else then please consider using my skills. I can also help with eBook publishing if you are writing a book.

More information on my website soon (www.nickwhitewriting.com).

Watch this space.