James Knight: a Writer?
that is the question
Oh hey there lovely humans, welcome to my blog! I’m James Knight (nice to meet you all *handshake*) and I’m a writer from the North-East of England.
Why hello quirky introduction, you’re not a writer. You’re just not a writer. You write, of course, but you’re not a writer. Try: “I’m James and I want to be a writer, I’m really badly trying to be a writer, I’m a little bit obsessed with the abstract idea of being a writer — perhaps confining myself to a log cabin in Oregon and slowly killing myself with heavy doses of coffee and extreme yoga; or maybe sitting in an authentic Italian café with a brand new MacBook and a week’s worth of hot sexy stubble, tapping the final words into my third Man Booker Prize-winning novel while the spirit of Sophocles rubs my shoulders and whispers beautiful poetry into my ear — and I’m from the North-East of England.” Better.
I have a lot of thoughts — deep thoughts — about a lot of things, and it makes no sense to keep them locked up in the ol’ cranium, so I thought why not start sharing them online, ey?!
You’re lowkey building an online portfolio so that you can get some bylines, but your activity will inevitably taper off when you start working for some content farm somewhere and you have no time to write anything worthwhile due to the 68 articles you have to submit every week. “This Dog Is Literally Me When I’m Drunk At A Party,” you type — your sixth bit of dog content today. Looking up, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror: you’re not a dog, you’re not drunk at a party, you’re looking shocking actually. You have a mild Ritalin addiction and it helps but, my god, you’ve lost a lot of weight. It’s 4AM on Sunday morning and you have eight deadlines to meet by noon and — *bzzz* your phone lights up, Snapchat, a definitely post-ironic selfie, one of your five friends is at a rave in south London and you can tell he’s peaking by the endorphin-hued glint in his eyes — he just got a job at the Guardian, good for him. Time for coffee? Nah, doesn’t cut it. Another pill? Yes… “It looks like Bennie the 4-year-old Labrador has made a reputation for himself as a total lightweight!”
I write because writing is important. I truly believe in the power of storytelling. Stories inspire us all, they make us feel less alone in the world, they make us feel alive. They grant new perspectives, they give a voice to the voiceless, they even have the potential to change lives.
Which TED talk did you just watch? Was it this one? You do realise it’s all corporate-speak designed to make adverts seem virtuous, right mate? You write because you’re okay at it and you don’t know what else you’re actually capable of doing for a living. Don’t lie, James. Don’t lie to the people.
Hopefully this thing builds up a decent enough following so that I can get my work read — but at the end of the day, if I can just make one person smile then my job here is done!
If you’re reading this, you’re either my girlfriend, an unimpressed potential employer, a lost Google searcher looking for something else, or a mate (“liked your latest post,” you’ll text me, “v funny,” you’ll lie). If none of the above, what are you doing here, exactly?
Anyway, I am taking commissions! If you’re interested just email my mgmt (firstname.lastname@example.org) with the subject line ‘please write something for me i love your writing so much that i want to give you money for it’.
That’s my personal email address. It’s just me. I have no management. But please do shoot me a note if you like what you see. Maybe I could binge on Thesaurus.com and churn out some overwrought copy just for you!
Thanks friends! Love you all! Bye!