this week, the rage is all about swine flu. No kidding, it seems as if every journalist is hoping for a flu pandemic, just so they can break the news.

Two years ago, the rage was all about the disappearance of Madeleine McCann, despite the fact that there was very little available information about it due to the way the Portguese police operates.

This week, a mock-up picture showing what Madeleine might look like now was shown. It got a 30 seconds slot on your evening news, while the swine flu possible pandemic (which doesn’t seem to be happening now) got twenty minutes.

Did Madeleine deserve 30 minutes slots two years ago and only 30 seconds now? No, this just shows how little attention you give to items not on your current news agenda. Back then, you hoped to find Madeleine, or at least what had happened to her. Either way, it would have been a story. But now, you have given up hope and therefore you don’t bother to tell us more about the mock-up picture, which looked pretty good and deserved an explanation of techniques used to make it as well as updates on the Madeleine search campaign. Not half an hour worth of news but perhaps two minutes?

I don’t know what else has happened in the world this week because it’s been all about the swine flu, which, frankly,  hasn’t really been spreading as fast as some people predicted. Update me about it, by all means, but do you need to talk about it for half an hour on the news when there is nothing new to reveal about it?

BBC, you have a duty towards your viewers, and this duty includes providing balanced news items. Don’t block three quarters of your weekly schedule with the same news item!

Taking Off is the story of Katie, a 20-something lesbian from London, in her quest for a better life. A very practical problem sparks a journey of self discovery leading her to question her dreams and goals.

While this technical challenge will not lead to a new invention or discovery (many people can already easily program a web crossword game so I’m not doing anything new), the desire to push your own technical abilities is a state of mind, it shows a capacity to invent, a will to better yourself and your life.

Throughout history, we have developped ourselves through inventions. We can now build houses with central heating thanks to several thousands inventors throughout the ages. We can now live longer thanks to thousands of scientists who have pushed the boundaries of knowledge, who have pushed their own technical boundaries and who have come up with cures for diseases again and again.

Overcoming technical challenges has been the one driving factor of the human race, yet we don’t seem to reward our inventors. Many of them struggle to get funding just to develop their ideas and survive, let alone make a decent living. Inventors aren’t celebrities, but somebody who agrees to get stuck in a house and do nothing of value for 3 months is.

While we might not all come up with useful inventions, we can all contribute by challenging ourselves and encouraging others.

If you’re not so good with computers, challenge yourself. If you don’t understand how an engine works, challenge yourself. If you don’t know how solar panels function, challenge yourself. Challenge yourself to learn. Challenge yourself to figure it out. Challenge yourself to understand. And then, challenge yourself to improve the existing techniques and methods in use.

The City of Westminster has finally decided to do something about it and they are going to install a  pedestrian scramble crossing, as seen in New York City’s Union Square and Tokyo’s Shibuya.

Normally, most crossings allow for some vehicle movements while pedestrians cross on one arm. Typically, if you want to cross diagonally, you will have to do it in 2 gos, and if you are unlucky, you might have to wait 30 seconds each time. Furthermore, at busy crossings, vehicles ignore the central yellow box markings  (which you shouldn’t enter if you cannot leave) and block the crossings, forcing pedestrians to zigzag between vehicles.  

While traditional crossings are perhaps acceptable for a through road used by several vehicles in transit which have no other option, they should have no place in a city centre as they relegate pedestrians to a minor role.  Pedestrians are the driving force of town centres as with no pedestrians, there would be nobody to buy things in your shops, so it’s time for us to reclaim our urban roads! 

On a last note, I’m wondering where the plans to pedestrianise the whole of Oxford Street have gone. It seems that since my fellow Londoners have elected Boris, all those pro-pedestrians plans have disappeared off the radar?

I have registered with Shelfari but I am in two minds about it (the groups look a bit dead).

Shelfari isn’t the only social networking website for readers out there though. Read this article to find out more about Shelfari, Library Thing, GoodReads and Readersville.

Which one do you use? What do you think of it? What is the best website to find new recommendations for books and have meaningful and interesting conversations with other book lovers?

Ilene Chaiken is often seen as the creator of the show, but this isn’t exactly the whole the truth… Read “L Word” Co-Creators Michele Abbott and Kathy Greenberg Break Their Silence to find out about who really created the show and those great characters.

I have to admit I felt a bit upset as I read this, I felt upset and angry for those two writers, angry at the way they were treated by the production company. If only they had been allowed to remain as co-producers on the show, The L Word would probably never have been known as that-TV-show-that-used-to-be-good.

In May, I will be publishing my web novel “Taking Off” on this very website. To make sure you don’t miss the start, join the readers club for more details.

Read more about the web novel.

Another recurring dream I have had is to run a book shop. But of course, at the moment, it seems that most people buy their books from Amazon and I must be one of the only few who still buy from bookshops even when I know it’s more expensive. In fact, my own partner thinks I am silly when I do this!

As an avid reader, I am looking forward to Kindle to come to the UK, and I will probably be an early adopter (I love technology and reading so this seems like a match made in heaven for me).

But even though I know I am looking forward to this new technology, bookshops are a favourite place of mine, a place where I can chill out and explore my own thoughts. I often call the big Borders in Central London (on Charing Cross Road and on Oxford Street) my spiritual home.

As such, I am worried that book shops will disappear. It’s already hard for them when internet sellers and supermarkets sell the same books at very discounted prices, but what will happen if people turn to electronic book readers such as Kindle?

I think the answer is a new kind of shop, a shop that acts as a community centre, a place full of experiences. While it’s convenient to shop on the internet, we still want places where to hang out, places where to meet like minded people, places where to indulge in our hobbies.

This is my dream for the bookshop of the future: some paper books on sale, some books for browsing (perhaps some out of print books), a coffee shop, wi-fi access and sofas throughout the shop, literary magazines and books reviews magazines for general browsing while drinking a coffee, books technology related gadgets on sale (the Kindles of the future), computer terminals from which you can order your electronic books directly from various websites (with a cut of the sale going to the shop as a commission/affiliate member of Amazon & co), events such as book groups, book signings, comedy, poetry reading, knowledgeable staff throughout the shop. How to make money you ask? On top of selling books, electronic books, gadgets like Kindle and coffees, the shop could sell a yearly membership which gives free or cheaper access to events, and also provide members a community run space inside the shop, a place where to hang out.

A dream? Yes. The future? Who knows…

The following day was a school day. Tania did well in her English test but she received a verbal warning for chatting during her history lesson. Kieron, the lead singer of a local rock band, bought her a cup of coffee after class. They played a game of pool with a couple of his friends and she left as dark was setting in.
Two police vans blocked the main entrance to her building. Mark, her father, opened her bedroom window and signalled her to hurry up.

“Darling, sit down. I have some bad news,” Bettie, her mother, said.

“What’s going on?”

“Mr Rivert has disappeared.”

“What? Where? What is Dad doing in my bedroom?”

“We have reasons to believe he might have been killed by two travellers. Your father mentioned that, earlier this morning, you were witness to an incident involving a black car,” the officer said.

“Yes.”

“We would like to record your account of the event.”

It was past midnight when they left.

As agreed, Tania stopped by the Police Station on her way to school and she signed her statement from the previous night. The waiting room wasn’t big enough to accommodate all the witnesses. Tania left as the butcher was describing the knife he had seen in their car. She met Luke in the street and they walked together.

“So, how are you?” Luke said.

“I didn’t sleep well.”

“Why not?”

“The whole Rivert thing, it’s doing my head in.”

“It shouldn’t, it’s none of your business.”

“What do you know? He’s my neighbour.”

“I know.”

Tania left him at the gate and joined Kieron and his bandmates in the café area.

“Hey Tania, what’s up?”

“Did you hear about Rivert? What a nightmare.”

“My dad is down the station. Those travellers are well dodgy.”

“I’m not sure that’s them to be honest. Rivert is a bit off sometimes, wouldn’t surprise me if he left in the spur of the moment.”

“Without giving his notice at work? I don’t think so. No, those guys are weird. My dad saw them pushing a bunch of stray cats into their car.” Kieron laughed.

“Maybe they like cats?”

“Or maybe they eat them! They never buy any meat.”

“Eek, that’s gross! All I know is the whole thing is messed up. That will keep the police busy for a while.”

“That’s good for us, they won’t bother us about the noise level so much.”

“Do they?”

“All the time. They don’t understand anything about rock music, they are too old.”

“Sounds like my parents.” They both laughed and Kieron brushed Tania’s shoulder.

“So, what bands do you like?” Kieron asked.

“I don’t know. Green Day, Marilyn Manson, Avril Lavigne, Take Back Sunday, The Distillers. There are so many of them. And you?”

“Cool. Do you like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs?”

“Of course.”

“You’re cool. You should hang out with us more often.”

“Thanks.” Tania blushed. “So, do you think the travellers killed Rivert?”

“Yeah,” Kieron smiled. “Don’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

The school was filled with rumours. Both teachers and teenagers had an opinion about the disappearance. Tania found herself answering many questions about her missing neighbour.

“Has he got a girlfriend?” the dinner lady asked her at lunch time.

“I don’t think so.”

“An ex-girlfriend maybe? Or is he gay?”

“I don’t know.”

“Kim, the new girl in the kitchen, says that the day before yesterday, she walked past their car and it smelt real bad, like rotten meat.”

“They don’t eat any meat.”

“Don’t they? It was real bad she said. Maybe it was a corpse.”

“Or maybe their cats had been sick.”

“There was a blood stain on the ground too. How do you explain that?”

By the end of the day, Tania was an expert on the case. The topic of conversation was much the same around the family table. Mark listed Rivert’s interests and wondered if he might have disappeared on purpose. Tania went to her bedroom. It was chilly so she turned her radiator up. She logged onto MSN; her best friend Jess was online and they chatted for one hour, about Kieron and about Rivert.

A loud noise in the corridor woke Tania. Someone was banging on her door.

“Darling, wake up.”

“What’s up?”

“The police needs you to identify some pictures.”

After rubbing her eyes for several seconds, Tania threw the covers away from her and jumped into a pair of combat trousers that were on the floor.

As she sat down at the kitchen table, a policeman pushed two pictures in front of her.

“Do you recognise this man?”

“That’s the man who threw the rubbish.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Did you notice the tattoo on his neck?”

“No.”

“It’s a swastika. An inversed swastika.”

“Like the opposite of a swastika?”

“No, it’s a swastika, but it’s left angled.”

“What does it mean?”

“We believe this man is a Nazi skin-head.”

“I thought the Nazi swastika was right angled,” Bettie said.

“A swastika is a swastika, Madam, we cannot ignore it.”

“I understand.”

“Can I go back to bed now?” Tania said.

“Yes darling, I’ll wake you up for lunch.”

“Wake me up if Kieron calls, he said he would.”

“Kieron?” Mark said. “I thought we made it clear we don’t want you to go to the gig tonight.”

“But–”

“There is no but!”

“The gig has been cancelled,” the policeman said. “The decision was taken for public safety. We advise everyone to stay at home tonight.”

“Great.” Tania headed to her room.

Monday morning was grim in the schoolyard. Everyone had had a boring week-end indoors with their families. Parents were blamed and the police criticised, but the teenagers turned most of their anger towards the travellers. What had started as a bit of excitement had become a nightmare. Posters showing the pictures Tania had identified were plastered all around the neighbouring villages.

Kieron greeted Tania and planted a kiss on her cheek. She smiled.

“Sorry I didn’t call Saturday. I was stuck all day at the police station and I had a family meal yesterday.”

“It‘s fine. A policeman was around my flat on Saturday too.”

“They showed me pictures to identify the dog.”

“What? Is the dog a suspect now?”

“I saw it chewing on a big bone the day after Rivert went missing. I thought nothing of it at first but then it all clicked.”

“How come you saw them the day after? I thought I was the last one to see them in the village.”

“You are. I saw the dog, not them.”

“They left him behind?”

“Yes.”

“That’s weird.”

“It all clicks together. They dumped parts of the body in your bin and they gave the arms and legs for the dog to eat. They got rid of the evidence.”

“That doesn‘t make sense. Let’s say they did want a dog to eat parts of the body, they could have left it to any dog, without leaving their own dog behind.”

“They needed to make sure the dog would eat it all properly. They could only trust their own dog.”

“My dog used to eat my spinach when I was six, even though it made him sick.”

“You have a dog?”

“I did. He got run over by a truck.”

“Oh sorry.” Kieron put his arms around Tania. “Do you want to see the film about Glastonbury festival after school? They’re showing it at The Little Room.”

“I’d love to. What time?”

“I’ll wait for you by the gate at five, OK?”

Kieron walked away and Tania waved at Luke. “I got a date! It’s a date, it’s a date, isn’t it?”

“He’s a jerk,” Luke said.

“What?”

“He thinks he’s so clever because he’s in a band.”

“You’re jealous.”

“No, I’m not. I don’t want a date with you.”

“I meant jealous you’re not as popular as him.”

“I know you meant that. That’s what I meant too. Anyway, better hurry up, we’re late!” Luke dashed off to the end of the corridor.

“Wait for me! What’s wrong with you today? You’re in such a bad mood,” Tania said.

“What’s wrong? The whole village has gone mad.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s a bit of a frenzy. But the travellers are scary–”

“That’s my point! They are not! I don’t believe any of it.”

“Why not? The police is damn sure.”

“Because it’s an easy option. Find people from out of town and blame them.”

“But everything points to that direction.”

“Did you hear what your new boyfriend said? Giving Rivert’s body to the dog to eat, how stupid is that?”

“Maybe he’s wrong about that. But it’s quite obvious those travellers are involved in some ways.”

“And it’s quite obvious you’re so in luuurve with him that you can’t even use your brain! I thought you were cleverer than that, I really did.”

“Well, I’m sorry but I like him. And I also believe the travellers might have killed Rivert. You’re not making much sense to me, it’s like you’re contradicting me for the sake of it.”

“No, I’m not! Whatever.” Luke took the flight of stairs two by two, leaving Tania trailing behind.

There was a small gathering in front of the police station. Kieron and Tania had to walk around it to get to The Little Room but they were stopped by a police van driving in. A policeman got out of the front passenger seat and cleared the path around the vehicle.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please, stand back behind the line,” he said as he pulled out a roll of white and red tape.

The back door sprung open. Two policemen came out, then the two travellers emerged. One child spat at them as the policemen looked the other way. The travellers were handcuffed and shoved into the station.

“Finally!” a man said.

“I’ve heard they’ve already confessed,” another man added.

“How do you know that?” Tania asked.

“My mate was in the station when the travellers called. They gave themselves in.”

“Good news,” Kieron said. His eyes were sparkling and had an unusual green tint. Tania kissed him on the cheek.

“Hu, huh,” Tania said. They locked lips.

Later that night, Tania walked home with a grin on her face. The film had been a perfect backdrop to their kissing. She turned into her street, nodding along to “Sk8er Boi”. An ambulance was parked in Rivert’s space and a nurse was hugging an old woman. Tania went home.

“Did you hear, darling?” her mother said.

“Yeah, I know. I saw them.”

“Rivert had a car crash on his way to a party.”

“What?”

“They found his car upside down and called the police.”

“Who?”

“The travellers. Lovely people, the police said.”

“But I saw them handcuffed.”

“The police had to check their story was true.”

“So?”

“They confirmed it on the eight o’clock news. Rivert lost control of his car and he veered off the road into a tree.”

“He’s dead?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, darling, come here.”

“I’m fine. Who is the old woman outside?”

“His mother. Poor woman.”

“I can’t believe it. What about the travellers?”

“They are staying at the Doyle’s B & B tonight. The police gave them a public apology.”

“What about the swastika?”

“A sign of good luck in Buddhism.”

“And their dog?”

“Not theirs. They found him hurt on the road and looked after him until he got better.”

“And the blood stain?”

“They ran over one of the stray cats near the petrol station. By accident, of course. These cats run wildly across the road, I almost hit one myself last month.”

“I feel so stupid.”

“We all thought they were guilty. Now, dinner’s ready.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Tania texted Luke and arranged to meet him in the morning before school.

As a writer, I focus both on short and long works, ranging from song lyrics to novels. A lot of thought is going into each work, no matter how short it might be. Many writers feel the same about their work and will spend hours and hours labouriously editing their words.

On the other hand, blog posts are written rather quickly. I do not suggest that no editing is done, because clearly, there are different ways to blog and some bloggers have a great writing style, but I think it is fair to agree that generally speaking, blog posts are written much quicker than a short story for example.

In addition to that, among writers, there is a historical divide between journalists and novelists for example, between hacks and literary writers. Broadly speaking, the latter normally don’t make much money from their writing but accuse the former of writing quickly and unimaginatively for the sake of churning out fast-lit.

On the surface, most writers and authors of fiction would probably classify blogging in the same category as “hacks”. They might choose to do it for monetary reasons but they don’t see it as “art” or “real writing”.

As the world of blogging is full of “make money blogging” advice, from the likes of Problogger.net and such, it is tempting for writers to set up a blog with this goal in mind.

However, unless you want to blog about insurance products or mortgages brokers, you are highly unlikely to make money. Making money from blogging is linked to advertising and selling your own products. Well, you wouldn’t get much advertising on a blog about your thoughts and stories, and as for selling your own products, we all know that self published fiction books sell very well, don’t they?

So with that out of the way, let’s look at blogging not as a way to make money but as a tool to express yourself, the way it was back in 2005 before this crazy trend of putting advertising on your blog and trying to encourage people to click on your links while not asking them to do so as it would break the rules.

Over the decades and centuries, writers have been known for keeping diaries and journals. Some of them have been published, most often after their death. It seems natural for writers to jot down their thoughts on this and that, to express their feelings about such and such, and to perhaps explore themes for future works.

So blogging is just like having a journal then?

Well, not so quite. A journal is mostly private, at least at the time of writing. Whereas blogging is a public activity, and therefore, is restrictive. There are things you would write in  your personal intimate diary that you would never write in public; if there aren’t, it can only mean that you have very dull thoughts, or no sense of privacy at all (no judging here, but for most of us, this isn’t the case).

Let’s not kid ourselves, blogging isn’t like having a diary, blogging is publishing. In fact, don’t you hit the “publish” button on your blogging software to make your writing available for all to see?

Blogging could be a format. You can write novels, poems, short stories, articles, essays and many more things. So writing a blog could be just another format.

There are many, many different ways to blog. You can mix fiction with non-fiction, you can write any number of words you want, you can revise it, therefore altering your work after it has been published, or choose not to, you can make it an hourly, daily, weekly, monthly routine, but then change the routine whenever you want, you can mix it with images, videos and sound.

Sometimes, blogging might be the same as what you would write for a magazine, like a review, or a column, and the blogging platform just enables you to publish it rather than having to convince a magazine editor. Sometimes, it can be the same as giving tutorials and lessons about your favourite subject, by choosing to write how-to articles instead of doing one-to-one teaching offline. Most often, it is a mix of different things.

Back to you, the writer. Not the blogger, but the writer. The one who writes stories or articles, whether they are published or not. The one who likes nothing better than telling the story, whether real or made-up.

Do you need to blog?

No you don’t. You don’t need to write in all formats. For example, many writers will never write poetry, or they might never write short stories, or screenplays.

However, formats come and go. As a writer, the focus should be on the story, not the format. A curious writer will probably want to explore this new format, the blog, explore how to tell the stories he/she wants to tell with this format.

Each format as we know it has got at least decades, if not centuries, of traditions, of fashions, of rules to follow and to be broken. On the other hand, blogging has got a few years, blogging is still a baby, a new-born.

This may be scary for the writer who relies on books telling him or her how to write a novel, or how to plot a screenplay. But for me, I find it refreshing and exciting. I don’t know where blogging is going to go, I don’t know what form it will have in a few years. Heck, I’m not even sure what to do with it right now. But exploring a new format is a privilege that few generations of writers have had, and I’m not about to dismiss it.