How to Write Good

I’m not going to lie, I feel like an arrogant, presumptuous dickhead publishing a post telling people how to write better.

Seriously, if you’re reading this, then you’re an intelligent adult with a successful career and the respect of your peers… at the very least, you know how to work the internet, so you know what you’re doing in life.

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7 of My Laziest Life Hacks

You’re welcome, fellow slackers.

It occurred to me when my domestic called me a ‘very busy woman’ that I might have finally perfected the art of looking busy. That same skill that evaded me through most of my trigonometry classes (please tweet @ me to let me know if you have ever actually used trigonometry for anything, ever) seems to finally be mine.

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3 Ways Open-Plan Offices Are the Worst

In about a month or so, I’ll be lamenting this post. I’ll have been working from home from my own (outstandingly decorated) home office, in complete isolation and will likely be itching for human contact. I’ll be calling old colleagues and friends and just breathing down the line, listening to them say ‘hello’… However, while the wounds of working in an open-plan office are still fresh and raw, let’s go with it. These blog posts won’t write themselves.

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How I Learnt to Stop Worrying and Love the Cloud

Ages ago, when I was first freelancing as a younger, more arrogant and more naive version of the nitwit you see before you, I started putting a portfolio together. The beginnings of this portfolio included the corporate videos I had worked on while at O’MAGE- and while I was more proud of those videos than anything else in the world, they proved to be the bane of my life for the next couple of years.

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How to Know when you Meet a Bad Businessman (or woman)

I try to believe that all people are inherently good, that people are not so much malicious as they are self-centred. I really think that most of the time, people aren’t out to screw you so much as they just genuinely don’t care about you- they’re more concerned with their own jobs, or families or issues.

You, innocent bystander, are just in the way.

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The Cost of Money

I love writing. Really, really love it.

I don’t always have the inclination to do it, but when I finally do drag myself away from the myriad distractions in my flat, I do, genuinely, love it.

But you know what else I love?


Not so much just having money, but rather what it affords. It can pay for the roof over your head and the food in your fridge. It can pay for that cute new pair of shoes, or that dress that you’ll ‘totally wear all the time’. It also buys security, status and confidence.

Having money means choosing whatever you feel like off the menu.  It means not having to carry a calculator in one hand when doing your grocery shopping. It means being able to travel, being able to go to the movies, to the theatre. I know I’m unintentionally quoting Malema, but money really is freedom.

It can however, also be a trap.

When I got my first pay cheque, I was beyond elated. It was just enough to pay for my bachelor flat (read: converted garage) apartment and keep me in baked beans and toast for the rest of the month.

Over the years, I have worked hard to climb up the ladder, and have used the number at the bottom of my payslip as a measure of my skills and my worth.  Any time I received a promotion, or let’s be honest- a pay raise- it was an affirmation of my abilities, and of myself. Giving me more money means you like me! You really like me!

Without me realising it, that number at the bottom of my payslip became more important than the hours of my life I had traded for it. Like I said, I really love writing. Getting a creative brief, fulfilling it and then getting paid- it doesn’t even feel like work sometimes.

But in recent months, I have come to realise I was doing less and less of what I loved, and more and more of what I ‘had to do’ to see that magic number at the end of the month.

More importantly, I had come to realise that the hours of my life I was pawing off have far greater value to me than that number. Hours that could have been spent challenging myself, or reading great books, learning a new skill, hanging out with loved ones, walking in the park, video games. The quality of my life had become worse, not better, by using money as my qualifier for my success.

The cost of money had become too high.

Recent news about my partner’s serious health condition cemented what is still a scary decision, even as I eagerly await the passing of the next 2.5 weeks for this decision to actualise.

I quit my damn job, yo.

Yes, I’m scared about paying the rent every month, yes, I’m scared of building up my freelance network and yes I’m worried about making a big  financial decision while we  are staring down the barrel of 4 months of chemotherapy. But I’m also excited about the prospect of being far more wealthy and  fulfilled where my time is concerned, and really- time is our greatest asset in life. How we spend our time, I think, counts for more than how we spend our cash.

So what am I going to do with all this free time that promises to sprawl out in front of me like a drunken debutante?


You’re goddamn right, Napoleon.



In Which I Respond to My 10 Best Spam Comments So Far

Oh, Internet.

Between the endless semi-porno results you throw up from seemingly innocuous image searches, to the bottomless pit of inanity that is any comment thread ever, exists a special circle of virtual hell, where hordes of spambots work tirelessly, spreading their useless, unwanted messaging to all corners of cyberspace.

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