This week I had the pleasure of reviewing an excellent book and I would like to share my review with you. I am not affiliated with this book in any way. The link that you will find here in this blog is to Amazon and yes I do have an Amazon affiliate account so if you purchase through this link I will receive a few cents.
The Gettysburg Approach to Writing and Speaking Like a Professional – By Phillip Yaffe
I must admit, I am not normally a fan of books that claim to teach you how to write. I believe that writing is personal and you either have a passion for it or you don’t. That being said, I am so glad that I chose to read this book. It gave me an edge that I hadn’t realized I had been missing and I discovered a lot of really great information about the different aspects of writing that I had neglected to learn.
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I have been absent from this blog for a while now and I do apologise for this. All I can say in my defence is that I have been extremely busy with client work. This is of course great news. I have also been focusing on some of my own personal writing projects too. Today I wanted to share a piece of my writing with you. This is a piece that was written in 1999 but a piece that I feel very proud of. It captures a lot of feelings that I had at the time and it is what I like to call conscious writing. Please feel free to leave your comments, good or bad.
It is gone, like the flowers of summer, one touch of frost and everything is gone. The beauty, the color and the picture of happiness, everything has faded and I feel numb. I continue to ask myself over and over how it could happen and why. We had shared happiness, we had shared laughter and now all that is left are those tears, the poor frightened girl sobbing uncontrollably, like a leaf in a gale force wind blowing and blowing until she fell. That brave front had been shattered and all that remained was the little girl inside crying for a love that was lost. A love that could never again be felt, death had stolen it from her and grief had consumed her. Hiding deep beneath the surface, the little girl had become suppressed and the woman you know had taken her place. A woman, shadowed by her past and yet still living.
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