Creative Writing Online|Tall Tales And Legends

Writing online is my passion and I hope to share some of that passion with those of you who choose to listen. Like all forms of writing, the internet offers many choices in terms of where to start and which direction to travel in. Writers can produce short stories, essays or letters and can choose to keep them private by creating google documents or can publish online and join a growing army of grant writers, technical writers, copywriters and many more now floating in a never ending sea of creative content that we call The Web.

I chose to write articles online.

Today, I choose to help others to do the same.

A word of warning though...

I do this in my own way and in my own time and for that I make no apologies. I believe life is about following your own path and when others choose to follow you then they do so because they like the path you have chosen and not because they want you to change direction.

If you are ready to walk alongside a little while I have something to tell you...

My father was fifty eight years old when he died.

He was a big man with a big heart which gave out in the end due to poor exercise, diet and a high level of frustration and the pain of living with unfulfilled dreams.

It's five years and at times it still feels like yesterday.

One thing he taught me was the power of personality and how you could create a spirit that others would be drawn to like gold.

So, if you are trying to build your business online and have chosen article marketing as your weapon of choice then maybe my father's story will help you to sharpen your blade just a little.

My father was a hostage negotiator for the prison service. A tough job, as the saying goes, but someone had to do it. In truth, he hated the job (as most people who work for someone else do) although he knew there was a certain appeal to it and realised it was possibly as glamorous as you could get behind fifty feet of stone wall and barbed wire.

So every day he would put on his work hat and head through the gate wondering what the day had planned for him. He worked long hours, travelled to wherever he was needed and spent his working hours trying to secure the safe release of inmates, guards or any unsuspecting prison visitor held as hostage, selecting his each and every word the way you might select a parachute in a mid air emergency or a "chickhead" while climbing; knowing you had little time but no option other than to make the right decision.

In the evening things were very different...

He would arrive home from work, take off his work gear, wash the smell of incarceration from his skin and put on his best shirt and tie to head out for a few drinks and a little "male bonding" at the local public drinking house.

This was my father's chapel. He wore his best clothes, put on a smile that was wide and welcoming and told his greatest tales to a gathering of friends and colleagues who crowded round him in eager anticipation of his next parabel.

And the truth is... people loved him for it. He was unique and entertaining. His tales were embellished only to add a little extra life where it was needed but they were always the truth and for that, people listened and trusted him as though he were family. You could argue they learned a little also.

He was a social media leader who knew the power of trust, honesty and adding value to others even before the term social media had been uttered.

When he died over five hundred people came to celebrate his life; man, woman and child. They told tales about him, laughed, cried and cursed at the legend he had become, a social legend within his own private world; a world now filled with stories he left behind...

A legacy of value that shines as bright as the North Star.