Fortnightly update 9: 30.03.2020 to 12.04.2020

In this blog series, I share my fortnight-to-fortnight triumphs, and failures, as a writer. I wouldn’t have it any other way.


I write scripts for the popular Star Wars YouTube channel Geetsly’s.

My second Star Wars video went up this fortnight. This one is for the Clone Wars nerds among ye.

The Front

I write scripts for the popular World War II YouTube channel The Front.

We uploaded two videos this fortnight. The first was about some World War II prisoner escapes you may not have heard of.

And the second is drawing the attention of keyboard warriors who can’t finish an eleven-minute video before shitting out a comment. Lol.

As for our custom posts on The Front History Facebook page and The Front History Instagram, like I said last fortnight, we’re discontinuing them indefinitely. With that said, I’m still using public domain images and making regular posts, so be sure to check out those links. For as long as we’re not making custom posts, I’ll be using our custom YouTube thumbnails as featured images for this blog series.

#vss365 (formerly fiction_shots)

I decided to discontinue fiction_shots on Instagram and continue writing 250-character stories on Twitter under my own name. If you like my stories, I’ll be posting them just as frequently, if not more frequently, there, but I’ll also be copying them into these blog posts, under the #vss365 word prompt for each day. I wrote three this fortnight.


Thirty years kicking in dungeon doors and spearing dragons, only to cark it to some bloody disease. One piece of advice I give young adventures sinking ale at the inn I haunt is bring yer own tankard and wash yer bloody hands. Ain’t dragons what get ye in the end, eh?


Lakes of orange flame and plains of silent ice — these I envisioned in my fall. But the reality is far worse. Curled over a desk a little too low on a chair a little too high, placing and removing and placing and removing the same damned comma for all damned time.


He stepped into the club, passed through a phalanx of laser, and sighed. It wasn’t him. It hadn’t been him in years. But the pills in the sandwich bag in his pocket said otherwise, and there were enough in there to get him to his thirties at least.


fiction_shots may be dead, but I just feel liberated; Instagram can be pretty sucky for writers. Other than that, we’ve taken little hits because of COVID-19, but business is continuing mostly as usual. Hey, I even started jogging. All it took was the apocalypse.

Thanks for reading <3