My name is Reggie Richard Rhys Jones and I am a Facebook user.
I visit the site at least once a day and I always leave it on a separate page when I'm online
"A frivolous folly of a website, no use to any man!" I hear you wail, "Cry shame you addict!!!"
Not so, say I. It's a wonderful networking tool, designed to locate old friends, workmates, family even and bring them together. It can endorse a group or a cause to an audience that terrestrial television broadcasters can only dream about. It can be used as a medium to advertise commodities, art, trade, services and can even help sway public opinion on a current topical issue faster than any tabloid newspaper.
So stick that in your bong and get nicked by the drug squad with it!
No, I am a Facebook user solely for the first reason.
It has put me back in contact with people I haven't even thought about for over twenty years, which I think is fabulous.
All well and good Gingerboy, but what has this to do with your literary career?"
Patience Grasshopper, like the can of McEwan's that waits like a stone for the right lager lout, you must show patience…
Well you see, Dear Reader, a friend of mine from those acne ridden days of pubetic yore has suddenly popped up on my Facebook friends list. She read my profile, visited my blog, bought the T-shirt, ate the cake and then told me that she is an editor for a magazine and would like to give me a helping hand.
Tremendous, all my Christmases in one!
Anyway, I'm in the process now of rewriting my, "Vampires of Sparta" short story to send to her, and then we'll see if it's nuclear rockets or marrowfat peas for breakfast.
Don't ask me what that means, it just reads well.
So, Dear Reader, that's where I'm at right now. Oh the deep joy of the internet...
I'm in a bloody great mood I am. Does it show?