This website isn't about me. Ok, it is - at least a little.
Really, this website is about my work as a writer, and by extension I am bound to admit, it IS about me, although I'm so insecure and nervous about the whole idea, I am assuming a nom de plume (and that doesn't mean that I eat feathers).
I'm a writer; young at heart but middle aged, pot-bellied and grey (where my hair still grows) in reality.
What do I write?
I write lots of stuff, which unfortunately means that I tend to be rather slow at finishing any one thing. The good news, however, is that my first full length book is now being unleashed upon an unsuspecting public.
It's called 'Signs of (a) Life', and according to the people who have read it so far, it's hilarious, which is a little embarrassing. Seriously...This bothers me a great deal, because I thought I was writing a very solemn, boring and factual account of some of the more upsetting things that have shaped my life up to now - and frankly I was looking for a little sympathy...empathy, even. However, those nasty swine at the publisher's seem to find my many misfortunes rather amusing, and have offered me no helpful counselling, therapy or advice whatsoever. Instead they just giggled, chortled and on at least one occasion, peed just a little (I had to hide in a small dark room for a while after I was told that). They think I should share the book with...other people. So, like a dutiful writer I have:
http://www.amazon.com/Signs-Life-Liam-Samolis-ebook/dp/B011JK2RUU/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1452723684&sr=1-1&keywords=liam+samolis
OR
http://www.friesenpress.com/bookstore/title/119734000019283065/Liam-Samolis-Signs-of-%28a%29-Life
So...it would seem that rather than being the rock-like foundation upon which my small family sits, I have instead been making a fool of myself all these years, and let me tell you that's a discomforting thing to suddenly realise...now, where's my small dark room?
Really, this website is about my work as a writer, and by extension I am bound to admit, it IS about me, although I'm so insecure and nervous about the whole idea, I am assuming a nom de plume (and that doesn't mean that I eat feathers).
I'm a writer; young at heart but middle aged, pot-bellied and grey (where my hair still grows) in reality.
What do I write?
I write lots of stuff, which unfortunately means that I tend to be rather slow at finishing any one thing. The good news, however, is that my first full length book is now being unleashed upon an unsuspecting public.
It's called 'Signs of (a) Life', and according to the people who have read it so far, it's hilarious, which is a little embarrassing. Seriously...This bothers me a great deal, because I thought I was writing a very solemn, boring and factual account of some of the more upsetting things that have shaped my life up to now - and frankly I was looking for a little sympathy...empathy, even. However, those nasty swine at the publisher's seem to find my many misfortunes rather amusing, and have offered me no helpful counselling, therapy or advice whatsoever. Instead they just giggled, chortled and on at least one occasion, peed just a little (I had to hide in a small dark room for a while after I was told that). They think I should share the book with...other people. So, like a dutiful writer I have:
http://www.amazon.com/Signs-Life-Liam-Samolis-ebook/dp/B011JK2RUU/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1452723684&sr=1-1&keywords=liam+samolis
OR
http://www.friesenpress.com/bookstore/title/119734000019283065/Liam-Samolis-Signs-of-%28a%29-Life
So...it would seem that rather than being the rock-like foundation upon which my small family sits, I have instead been making a fool of myself all these years, and let me tell you that's a discomforting thing to suddenly realise...now, where's my small dark room?
