I wish I could see his troupe of Very Remarkable Trained Pigs.
I wish he would promote ME but I'm not very good at playing the xylophone with my snout or anything.
Promotion. A subject that I have an ostrich-like attitude to, head firmly buried in the sand.
It leaves a nasty taste in my mouth. (Well, sand would, wouldn't it?) Perhaps it's my British reserve but I find self-promotion so very hard to do. So I don't do it.
Result: I write some good stuff and nobody sees it. How motivating THAT feels! It's such a great way to carry on. And I do.
Oh look. I just discovered the very book for me:
Or alternatively, I could buy a xylophone and a pig costume?
