Not The Home Page
“Get a website,” my publishers told me.
“Why?”
“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.