How Not To Write Poetry - Fraser, Billy Bud
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"Random events of my life put into rhyme. A collection of moments and what I was feeling. A glimpse of the crazy that is my mind. Love, loss and some the characters that left an impression." BILLY BUD FRASER

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Produktbeschreibung
"Random events of my life put into rhyme. A collection of moments and what I was feeling. A glimpse of the crazy that is my mind. Love, loss and some the characters that left an impression." BILLY BUD FRASER
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Autorenporträt
I was born in Nairn, a small town in the Scottish Highlands. I was in speech therapy as a kid, reading Fuzzbuzz till the first year. My spelling is still atrocious. (I can spell the word 'temperature' three different ways in the same sentence.) I read slower than most but absorb every word. At 13 I discovered alcohol and other things. I went to school, worked after, worked every weekend and still partied hard. My friends got thrown out of school and I used to skip school and get day drunk with them. I stayed on till the end of sixth year and passed all my Highers with a 40% attendance rate (and may have been a little drunk in class). I had no ambition or goals, got myself in a bit of trouble, so signed into college last minute. Completed HNC, got offshore apprenticeship. Sorted life out, moved to Aberdeen, was excited about future, then I failed my medical: I am red/green colour deficient, i.e. colour blind. Lost everything. I went back to college, got an HND and BSc, but had lost faith. I found peace as a gravedigger. Ran the local cemetery for a couple of years till the Council went private. Was not sure what to do. Put my car in for an MOT. It failed horribly, but I left the garage with a job. Though I never knew a thing about cars, the manager knew I was a grafter and highly capable. That was nine years ago and we are still working together today. Since then I have had been put in charge of my own garage, lots of job offers, but I hate being in charge. I'm best as an assistant manager: no headaches, just get to do my job. (Which I'm spectacular at.) I can see the house I was born in out of my bedroom window. I have gone a hundred yards in 34 years. Some achievement in life. I have already written a good chunk of my next book. It's called How Not to Write a Sequel, but instead I decided to add them to this. This is because I don't know where my life is headed.