More Than Just A One Prick Pony.
The ups and downs of writing a book, and more.
If you've been reading my blogs for any length of time and you haven't turned to alcohol or substance misuse yet, well done. This means you're still coherent and your ability to read without seeing double, or worse still experiencing nightmares, hasn't yet happened. Don't worry. It'll all catch up with you soon.
Equally, there are people who, with knowledge of my previous life are so traumatised by the fact that I can just about string a sentence together in a form almost legible to even the most basic of life's simpletons, will still find it hard to believe I'm more than just a ‘one prick pony’. Trust me, with two I'd be a multimillionaire. Beat that Ron Jeremy!
But still, what's money anyway? To me, it simply means I can keep a roof over my head, pay my bills, and eat. Money, I have to say, has never really impressed me as in my former years it was a case of been there, worn the t-shirt, and learned from it. So, nowadays I have nothing. Well, compared to others anyway.
I don't have pensions, or savings; ISA's (whatever the hell they are), investments, stocks, shares, insurances, or any of what others may refer to as assets. I have no interest in owning stuff either, in the material sense of things. Other than the clothes I wear, furniture to sit or sleep on, and kitchen equipment there's little else that interests me. So, items such as jewellery, watches, and other bits and bobs, no thanks.
Cars I have never been interested in, and although houses/property may at times seem appealing, there never seems to be anything within my price range that would take me as far away from the rest of humanity that would make somewhere potentially liveable - and if you've been reading my previous blog posts you'll know full well as to why.
People are sold on the property market (no pun intended) under the illusion that they can 'own their property'. Yes, they may own it if they pay cash and have the deeds safely put away in a safety deposit box. Otherwise, they own jack shit, putting it bluntly. Anyone who pays a mortgage is nothing more than another form of renter who pays their lender to stay in the property as an assured tenant until the loan amount has been paid in full. Any default on payments and people are quick to find out they own nothing when the lender slings them out on the street and they're instantly a bad credit risk to any future landlord/lady. That, my friends, is the bottom of bottom lines.
Of course, conversely, people will say they can borrow money on the strength of 'owning' - and I use that term loosely, property. This I get. However, as with anything to do with financial services those who ultimately benefit from all of this are the banks, building societies, and other corporates in the global money racket. I think I've expressed pretty much my feelings towards all of this in greater detail within the pages of my autobiography - 'The Sexual Philanthropist' which's out now in print on Amazon/Kindle. Go grab a copy while it's still highly rated on the 'Top Ten Book' best sellers list of 'Car Boot Sales 2023'.
Mind you, I call it; perhaps overgenerously some would say, an autobiography, in reality, it's more like the perfect template for how 'not' to write a book. Although I found the experience cathartic in terms of getting stuff out of my system and down on paper, after eleven months of feeling emotionally, mentally, and physically drained I couldn't wait a day longer to get it finished and published. The sheer strain of trying to remember as much of my life as I possibly could - with all its twists, turns, and dead ends in as best chronological order as I could became overwhelmingly mind-numbing.
Now, I don't know the format other writers use, however, for me, it was a case of just tapping away at the keyboard regardless of spelling errors, exact punctuation, grammar, syntax, and paragraphs. It was simply a matter of typing at fever pitch level and sod the consequences of being correct in everything until I'd finished. That was the easy part. Next, it was editing, and the fun (again, I use the term loosely) began. I decided the best way forward was to use Google recommendations at first. It was then I discovered that Kindle had its own editor, Kindlepreneur. Brilliant, editing and formatting done!
Not long after trying this, I found Kindle seemed to like changing the terminology I use, and it no longer felt like it was me writing it. So, I went back to Google recommendations followed by Google Editor, and one by one a further few, including Grammarly, Scribe, and Microsoft 'Word'. Aside from considering Amazon as my chosen publisher I also looked at others who also used their own editing software, and on each occasion not one compared with another - and mostly, I found because of way too much Americanisation of the English language. I was literally screaming in my head - "Damn it, all I want to do is get the bloody thing finalised and out there! Why does it have to be so bloody complicated?" My mental capacity for the whole thing was now well beyond exhaustion.
To cut a long story short, snip, I probably ended up with a hotch-potched amalgamation of an autobiography that has all manner of literary malfunctions. However, it was finally out there, and so far it has received some excellent reviews, here’s one:
"John Langley was raised in a Christian Catholic home. However, his mother deemed him an unwanted, illegitimate child. At a young age, John left home and attempted to pursue schooling, but found it unsuitable for his needs. Subsequently, at the age of sixteen, he left school, delved into the sex industry, and established his independence. In his autobiography, The Sexual Philanthropist, Langley delves into his experiences and reflects on how they have shaped his life. Through navigating the "university of life" and engaging with diverse individuals in the sex industry, Langley realized substantial personal growth and development.
John Langley had a challenging life, starting at a young age. Despite his harrowing experiences, he was able to recognize his potential and utilize his thinking faculties to overcome his obstacles. In his book, Langley tells a touching story that made me question the unfairness of life. His experiences were relatable; I had faced rejection and had to take charge of my life at a young age. It's always easier to tell the story, but the experience is hellish. Honestly, I love how expressive the author was throughout the book.
Reading this book taught me the importance of opportunity, intuition, and initiative and how they contribute to success. It also reminded me that nothing is impossible. In addition, it emphasized the importance of avoiding judgment towards others, as they may not have had better options. Reading Langley's story was comforting, reassuring me that I am not alone in the face of difficult times. It reminded me that better days are always on the horizon.
Finally, it is worth noting that the book contains excessive profanity and raw sexual language. As a result, this book may not be suitable for younger readers or those who dislike reading such content. However, despite the abundance of profanity, the book is still an interesting read. I would recommend The Sexual Philanthropist by John Langley to individuals who enjoy autobiographies and those who seek to explore the sex industry. I would also recommend this book to individuals who may be facing rejection, homelessness, or other personal difficulties.”
I'm pleased to say. So, journey told thus far, people always ask how much money I make from the book, which although to the surprise of most very little in terms of royalties as I'm no JK Rowling, the money isirrelevant as it was, quite rightly, never about this.
Money is useful, of course, it is, just not the be-all and end-all of everything in life. I'm far from rich, and probably somewhere close to poor in real terms. I have a reasonably good income that meets my needs, and this is good enough. I don't do holidays, theatre (which I cannot stand anyway), cinema, pubs, clubs, sports, dine out, gambling, (except for a bit of scratchcard amusement), or, touch alcohol. I could probably afford all of it if I were that interested, and with each in small doses. I'm simply not. I have enough income to meet my immediate needs, any more than this do I really want? I don't know, would be the honest answer. Like everyone else, I guess, finances don't always work out the way I want them to, I'll overstretch myself and hit the borassic line from time to time. However, I'll work around it and everything will straighten out again until the pinch reoccurs.
Harking back to my book, I state that I intend to leave this world in exactly the same way as I entered it, with nothing. In the meantime, I'm here, and living what I call an idyllic lifestyle with next to nothing at all worth worrying about. For a long time now I've felt centred, and at peace myself, enjoying a stillness and calmness within that very little interferes with. Everything I need I have, and all of that comes from within, rather than from outside of myself. From material things that in reality only create temporary pleasure.
More importantly, I have my humour, and whatever constitutes writing. This’ll do nicely. Click here to buy my book - The Sexual Philanthropist (Amazon)