Once, in a small but pleasant flat somewhere in the London borough of Barnet, there lived a twenty-something male named Joe Gardner. Joe was, though not through lack of trying, unemployed and living off of a mistakenly allocated credit card and the leftovers of a graduate overdraft.
Joe's goal in life was to be a writer. So he would often sit, day in, day out, at his laptop, writing short stories, lyrics and general plotless ramblings, whilst simultaneously working on the novel he was writing about his best friend.
One day, Joe decided to open an internet blog to store thoughts, ideas and the opportunity to look back at his progress on the path to recognition for his supposed creativity. If nothing else, the blog would be a good place to direct his frustrations and restlessness with the world of literature. Nonetheless, Joe was determined to one day have published something other than two mediocre poems in a little-known anthology when he was eighteen. So he sat down, armed with a coffee and a list of publishing companies, and a head full of ideas (some of them contrived), to make something of himself.
Unfortunately, no more of this story can be related to you, as it is still being written.
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