Inside invisible envelopes holding up a modern generation of writers, thinkers and planners we find a dependency to mobile digital devices. The one time pleasure of listening to the rhythmic clicks of fingers moving faster than a human mind delivers; the typewriter lies in a mental state of dusty dizziness bent and rusted like a ghost town found in the center of a Steven King novel. Thumbing words onto a screen is Texting. For decades people didn’t recognize Rap and Hip Hop as music. It’s acceptance in today’s society isn’t about the people of 1985 but two generations of open mindedness that have had to weave and duck through Gangsta, low grade recording from home studios and Poets without knowledge on how to create a hook for non-fans to sing along with. As much as I want to believe no book will be entirely read in 140 Twitter characters. Time will somehow prove me wrong. Inspiring, influential and mind blowing to me are the Face Book joggers that can take an entire page and make it less than what it used to be. I didn’t handwrite my new book Scrambled Eggs because of laziness but more along the lines of exploration. Could I maintain single thoughts and pictures using modern digital techniques? The biggest negative responses have been from lovers of long chapters and mile thick books with real pages who continuously complain of my delivery being too much for too little space. Which I find extremely funny because my last book Conversation With The Devil which went to numer five in the UK was stopped at 53 pages because of my passion to reach readers with barely enough time to lay down a book to pee. You can’t do that anymore! I know too many who’ve dropped their smart phone in the toilet.
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