Free eBook: Scriptophobia - 15 Sure Ways To Deal With Fear Of Writing (THE WORKBOOK)

We live in a world of constant distractions and interruptions. Time ﬂies by faster than a single blink , leaving our hopes and dreams unfulﬁlled. But all hope is not lost. Your writing dreams and authorship wishes can be actualized with SCRIPTOPHOBIA: THE WORKBOOK.

It's time to FOCUS on your goals and develop the writing skills crushed by the fear of writing.

SCRIPTOPHOBIA: THE WORKBOOK is a powerful and yet simple to use, 56-day system to help you become a better writer and to develop the all-important writing habit that the successful authors you dream to be like, share.

Using SCRIPTOPHOBIA: THE WORKBOOK you can:

Set your own writing goals and targets.
Record and tracking your progress.
Give yourself small rewards for your successes.
Capture ideas and thoughts for plots, characters, locations, and more.
And if you dare, you can accept weekly and daily writing challenges from me.

This workbook is for people like you, whether you are an aspiring author, a published author looking to improve, or are simply writing for fun.

Use it, commit to it and enjoy it and, trust me, 8 weeks from now you will be a better writer! 

Click HERE to download Free eBook.

Note: This is an accompyning Workbook of my book Scriptophobia - 15 Sure Ways To Deal With Fear Of Writing

Click HERE to buy the main book.

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Fiction | The Tripod Effect

THE TRIPOD EFFECT The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the surrogate father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife and said, "I'm off. The man should be here soon" Half an hour later, just by chance a door- to-door baby photographer rang the doorbell, hoping to make a sale. "Good morning, madam. I've come to...." "Oh, no need to explain. I've been expecting you," Mrs. Smith cut in. "Really?" the photographer asked. "Well, good. I've made a speciality of babies" "That's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat" After a moment, she asked, blushing, "Well, where do we start?" "Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch and perhaps a couple on the bed. Sometimes the living room floor is fun too; you can really spread out!" "Bathtub, living room floo...

The Curve And Colors Of Hate | Uwen Precious Ogban

The Curve And Colors Of Hate When the evening news had broken Father spoke with a tone of pain and anger “Nigeria is a whore,” And my mother agreed Painting sensual scenes giving you pleasure of what looks like a garden that hides a landmine. And how trying to walk through it becomes slippery A journey asking for crimson libations, full of fractures and ‘Had I knowns’ while you looked over the fence for greener pastures Her sighs spoke of a menu full of thrills but you are served double horrors She, Nigeria, abhors you later on when it relinquishes you of value, Truly, she is an old ‘Whore’ My Father picked it from there, “Nigeria gets hard as rock” Wants of men despised Sullen moods recorded in poems, speeches, and events, snubbed For as long as it makes sultry suplex’s on a comfortable ring – Nigeria is satisfied “Son, Nigeria is you, your mum and I” Guilty to a fault Pained by happenings that come with fire and brimstone Let loose from bellies that should hold patriotis...

Featured Poem: Slavery In Africa - by Uwen Precious Ogban

SLAVERY IN AFRICA We believe they rowed their boats of tumults into our region; carrying with them bags of conundrums, while we drummed our drums and jollied to their, intonation. The way they dressed, the way they addressed us Made us mime to the harmony and yearns in their speeches of a dawn to civility and hale: that was a start of the course of slavery in Africa. We still thought they were our brothers, because our chiefs rolled floridly with their proposals While we were mockingly disposed of In the field, or given to bespoken tailors as apprehends; as helps; in servitude; ‘posed to carry out orders as the come in flicks. We became babies in our own motherland we became cartage of their foreign plans. We cleared our huts so that they could find comfy and build on our strengths draining our tears as they wryly whipped us on our backs. Their wisdom their prowess They used to molest And we gazed in cluelessness Cause we still didn’t see it as slavery then – but as pain, so enjoyable....

Jaachi Writes

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