Not The Home Page

“Get a website,” my publishers told me.


“Every writer has a website these days.”

“That can’t be true,” I said. “I’m a writer, and I don’t have one.”

“Okay, every writer apart from you has a website these days. A writer must have a website.”

“Shakespeare didn’t have one. Or Tolstoy. Or – ”

“Are you comparing your work to that of Shakespeare and Tolstoy?”

““Noooo, but … well, now you mention it, what have they written lately?”

“Look, what’s your problem with getting a website?”

“I’m a Luddite.”

“Don’t use words like that – it makes you sound old-fashioned.”

“I am old-fashioned.”

“And grumpy.”

“Would you prefer me to be Dopey, then? Or Sneezy?”

“Martyn, you’re not old-fashioned or grumpy – you’re an exciting new voice in teenage fiction. You must be, it says so in our publicity material.”

“That’s very kind of you, but I’m still not getting a website.”

“It will enable your readers to find out more about you.”

“I don’t have any readers.”

Exactly. That’s why we want you to get a website. With a blog.”

“A what?”

And so the discussion continued. There are no prizes for guessing the outcome. You are, after all, reading this on Not The Home page of my website … which, of course, has a blog.

So, this is my website. You’re welcome to it.