The Bookseller is Here!

Hi Folks!

It's been a bit quiet around here lately and for that I apologise. Writing has taken a backseat in my life this year but I'm here to announce that I have finally taken the plunge and published my novel, The Bookseller.

As anyone who has followed this blog will know, The Bookseller has been in the pipeline for several years. I got the original idea in - ooh, must be 2006 - and it's been through a few drafts since then. 

It's a mystery involving two very different characters.  Greg, running a little antiquarian bookshop, begins to make some disturbing discoveries that undermine his world. And Gary, a cynical policeman about to investigate a case that changes his world view. 
Both must solve the mystery of Jedza's Gate before it is too late.

Here is the prologue. I hope it whets your appetite for more. If so you can find the Kindle ebook here.  The paperback version is now available here.

Prologue: June 2004

Killigrew woke with a jolt.  He was aware of that odd murmuring again but it took his befuddled brain several minutes to settle on where it was coming from.   He pinched the bridge of his nose under his wire rimmed spectacles and strained to listen, his eyes closed.  These days it took him a good long time to come to his senses, even after so short a nap.  He squinted at his watch, registering the time with momentary disbelief.  It was after eight; he should have gone home long since.  How had it got to be so late?  Elizabeth’s dinner would be drying up in the oven.  He was surprised she hadn’t already phoned to check up on him.

He felt the weight of the book on his chest and lifted it, scrutinising the kid leather binding.  It had been years since he’d read a whole book at a sitting – no wonder it had sent him to sleep, he mused.  Had it been worth it?  He tried to remember, flicking through the pages for a prompt.  The paper was thicker than normal and silky under his touch in a vaguely erotic fashion.  Like the skin of young virgins, he thought suddenly.  The idea amused him.

The murmuring came and went, like crashing waves on a distant shore.  Right this moment it seemed to emanate from the small corridor leading to the washroom and the cellar.  He craned his neck to hear better, privately dreading the prospect of having to get his arthritic legs down there again.  Once had been enough for one week.  Still, it had netted this remarkable find, he thought, his eyes fixing again on the haunting frontispiece.

To his relief the sound receded again.  Pulling himself to his feet he shuffled along the corridor to the wash room, stopping a moment to listen at the cellar door.  All he could hear now was a dull rustling, like autumn leaves in an eddy or a bird trapped in an enclosed space.  Once, when a boy, he had watched as a servant freed a trapped crow from behind a bricked-up fireplace in his father’s house.  For hours they had all heard the frantic flutter of wings behind the wall, like subterranean rumbling, invisible claws scratching wildly at the brickwork.  After careful chiselling a brick came loose enough to remove and the servant tentatively inserted a gloved hand to pull the frantic bird to freedom.  Even after all these years Killigrew still recalled the wild expression in its soot dulled eye.

All week he had heard it come and go, until at last he’d gone reluctantly down to investigate.  He’d had rats before so he knew it wasn’t an infestation.  A trapped bird would have been obvious.  He had found nothing of any note – apart from the book - and the strain of getting down the stone steps and back up had left him breathless.  Not only with exertion; something had frightened him, although he didn’t like to admit it.

Shuffling along to the washroom he rinsed his face under the cold tap and dried off on a grubby hand towel.  A draught of air caught the back of his neck and he looked up to see the cellar door handle start to turn in the washroom mirror.

He gasped.  Come on, Des.  You can’t be awake yet….

He spun round unsteadily.  Whatever he had seen, or thought he had seen, there was no sign of it now.  The cellar door stood firmly shut, no sign of movement.  He sighed with relief and started back for the office, the prospect of getting home to Elizabeth and dinner more attractive than ever. 

All was silent until he reached the cellar door when the most almighty crash threw him recoiling against the wall.  Something had smashed against the inside of the door with such force he expected to find the wood splintered as he stared aghast.  After a moment another crash made him sink to the floor in terrified anticipation of what was about to burst forth.

“Let me out!”  A furious voice cried, filling Killigrew’s weak heart with ice.  He cowered there transfixed, waiting and listening, his heart pounding in his ears.  After what seemed several minutes he pulled himself up.  All thought of investigation had left him.  He would call the police.

In his hurry his foot caught on something in the gloom, kicking it towards the cellar door.  Without looking he knew it must be the book which has fallen from his grasp.  Desperate to escape, he nevertheless hesitated and forced himself to reach down for it, but as his fingers stretched out it shot away from him into the now open cellar door.  The bony hand of a dark hooded figure caught the book with magical precision.

The last thing Killigrew heard was his own scream as the hood fell from the stranger’s face.

Why Write?

Today is World Book Day. If you haven't heard of it, it's a worldwide celebration of reading and all things related, ie books, authors etc. 

I'm all for celebrations. My good friend and narcissistic publisher Edie Tor is marking the day by having the complete works of ELJames tattooed on her body, but I wouldn't go that far. For one thing, ELJames is hardly my benchmark for literary merit*, even if she has sold cartloads of copies. And for another, I come out in hives when I put transfers on my wrist, so tattoos might just be fatal.

I'm all for reading, however. Far better to stimulate the imagination than pig out on junk telly. And with the advent of ebooks and KSP, the choice of reading material has never been wider. Which begs the question: With an ocean of books out there, should anyone be bothering to write more?

Of course "should" never enters into it, does it? If people feel the need to do something, for whatever obscure and indefinable reason, they tend to just go ahead and do it. And it doesn't really matter how loony it seems to everyone else. Witness the number who die trying to be the zillionth climber of Everest, or walking to the North Pole, or pole-vaulting across the Grand Canyon. The rest of us shake our heads on the sidelines, but it never deterred anyone.

So why do we write? What is the need we're trying to fulfil when we torture ourselves with rewrites, critiques, rejection letters and bad reviews? If it's for glory or riches, we're setting ourselves up for disappointment. Granted a few do win the jackpot - it's an analogy worth emphasising because you're about as likely to win the lottery than hit Harry Potter levels of riches - but the vast majority never see enough to cover the cost of pens and ink. 

But isn't art its own reward? Someone once said art is the purpose of life, and therefore no one should expect to earn from it. Like the poor sod trying to pogo across the Sahara it's one little contribution to the tapestry of life, a little coloured fleck in the midst of all that rich imagery. It's an achievement, of sorts. It's something out of nothing. And that's always worth the effort.

Happy World Book Day! 



*Is she anybody's?

Hand Knitted Electricity

Just a short post today announcing the publication of Hand Knitted Electricity which I had a hand in.

 I should warn you that this so-called book is not for those of a nervous disposition, or indeed anyone easily offended by the politically incorrect. So don't go buying it for your sweet old granny thinking it's about knitting and stuff because you might precipitate her early demise. The publisher cannot accept any liability for suffering caused, but if  you're willing to take the risk on your own head be it and if she leaves you a sizeable inheritance you might like to chuck a few quid in our direction by way of thanks.

Anyway, if you like a laugh you might enjoy it. It's available from Amazon, or for those of you with Kindle from here.

When Words Get In The Way (or how not to be Mr Hutchinson)

One thing writers have in common is a love of words. After all, they are our stock in trade. So it would be strange if they didn't hold a certain charm, even fascination. There is something about the sound of the right word, the feel of it in the mouth, the sight of it on the page, that is immensely satisfying. But as with all pleasures it can become an obsession.

Do you enjoy word games like Scrabble? Do you cancel appointments so as not to miss your daily dose of Countdown? Do you sit up late trying to finish the Times crossword? If so, you could be a lexaholic.

Stephen Fry is a famous one and it shows. Robert Robinson was another - remember all that camp delivery on Call My Bluff? The pure joy of words is the greatest spur to a wordsmith, but it can also be their downfall.

Because it's so easy to let your passion get the better of you. Remember, story telling is about communication - it's a two way street, like a conversation. Just as you would bore a listener rigid by spouting great long pompous sentences of obscure and unnecessary words, you lose the reader in much the same way. If you have a propensity to wax lyrical all the more need for critical editing, either from yourself or a sympathetic beta reader.

Otherwise you run the risk of sounding like a pompous bore, as this clip from Fawlty Towers shows:

Santa Claus touched me up, claims elf.

The world of fictional characters was shaken to its foundations today in the wake of a new ITV documentary, "Kringle the Kiddy Fiddler" in which several underage elves claim the much beloved seasonal benefactor sexually assaulted them.

"I was working late in his workshop at the North Pole," claimed one sobbing elf who wished to remain anonymous. "When I heard the familiar Ho-ho-ho and the next thing he'd yanked off my tights. It was dreadful. I haven't been able to work since, I was so traumatised."  

A spokesman for Christmas said these allegations were completely scurrilous and unfounded. "Santa Claus is the seasonal Father to children everywhere, and there is nothing whatsoever unnatural about an old man in a red suit creeping into children's bedrooms in the dead of night to give them the contents of his sacks. For anyone to say otherwise is pure malice."

But other alleged victims have since come forward to add their sordid stories to the debacle. "He asked me if I wanted to pet his reindeer," said one. "Then we drove around in his Rolls Royce Sleigh drinking eggnog. I started to feel dizzy then the next thing I knew he had his hand up my dress."

Santa Claus, or Kris Kringle as he is known informally, has long been celebrated for his generous gift giving to children and works tirelessly every Christmas Eve to bring presents to every child, near or far. He has been recognised by having his picture on Christmas Cards and in songs like "Santa Claus is Coming To Town".  He has always maintained a wall of strict privacy regarding his private life and consistently refuses media interviews.

"It's just not right," claimed a former reindeer who claimed he was sacked for speaking out about Kringle's activities in 1987. "Something should be done. He's a menace. They should get someone safer who's good with kids. Like that Jimmy Savile bloke."

Santa Claus declined to comment.

...and trolls

As a companion piece to my last blog I thought it pertinent to mention another species of review which gives cause for annoyance or amusement depending on whether you are on the receiving end.

With review sites like Goodreads and all retail sites having customer reviews which are open to anyone regardless of whether the purchase of said item can be verified, the way is clear for trolls to put the boot into any unsuspecting author they deem deserving. I call them trolls because personal attacks on an author can hardly be called reviews. These troll attacks can be the result of many things, but usually it's someone with a grudge for one reason or another.  I've seen spates of negative "reviews" appear after a forum debacle or after an author has received a bad press for whatever reason. Self publishing guru John Locke received a raft of these after the revelation that he had paid for some of his reader reviews. 

You can easily spot these in the one-star or two-star (if they're feeling generous) section. The giveaway is that they contain no specific details about the book, only vague criticisms of style/genre/cover art spiced with digs at the author. They often lead to bitter rows in the comments too which reinforce the vitriolic motive.

As well as these there also is a subset of trolls who fancy themselves as experts on a particular subject and make it their mission to nitpick every detail in a novel in order to write self-aggrandising reviews which are really nothing to do with the book at all but a means to show off their amazing prowess. Historical fiction is particularly prone to this kind of trolling.

These trolls are more interested in boosting their own self image than relaying useful information. Some barely mention the book, instead listing their own (dubious) qualifications. Sadly their lack of knowledge is even more apparent than the gaffes they are uncovering. Some have trouble stringing a coherent sentence together and it is hard to take someone's pompously proclaimed qualifications seriously when they can't even spell.

So there's much entertainment to be had from troll reviews. What do you do if you get one? Have a good laugh and ignore it. The one thing trolls love is to get attention - it's the reason they do it, after all. Don't feed them.

On Sock Puppets and Reviews

Everybody's doing it. Or so it would seem.

In case you haven't heard - in which case you should come out of that sensory deprivation chamber NOW and get with the programme - there's been a lot of rumpus this week about authors faking rave reviews by creating sock puppet accounts. Go and Google sock puppet if you want all the sordid details, I can't be bothered trawling through the multitude of news items. Not only that but SP guru and Kindle pin-up boy John Locke admitted he'd achieved his jaw dropping sales by paying for five star reviews. 

Well, I'm disillusioned. With each new revelation it seems the world of honest law-abiding authors and reviewers is nothing more than an illusion. And I can't help wondering how long this has been going on. Did the doyens of literature stoop to such disreputable tactics to launch their masterpieces?

Amazon review of:  Oliver Twist by Norbert Cheeseworthy

This is the best of books. It's not the worst of books. Were I a younger man I'd aspire to write such a tome myself.

Was this review helpful to you? YES/NO    78 out of 98 people found this review helpful. 

Amazon review of: Genesis by Old Testament Scribe

And lo! I looked upon the face of the book and saw that it was good. Certainly worthy of five stars.

Was this review helpful to you? YES/NO    8965 out of 98888 people found this review helpful

Amazon review of Emma by Regency Fop

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a discerning reader should shell out a good part of his fortune to gain possession of this book.

                                                      Was this review helpful to you? YES/NO   76 out of 82 people found this review helpful

In the Interest of Press Freedom

For several days now a picture has been posted widely online, in fact one might say it had "gone viral" in modern parlance. In spite of its easy availability Buckingham Palace has asked me not to publish the picture on my blog on the grounds that it violates the privacy of a well-loved member of the royal family. But the larger issue is one of press freedom. For that reason, and nothing to do with getting a few more hits than normal, I have decided to publish and be damned.

So here it is. The picture the Royal Family did not want you to see:

Next week: Harry gets his nob out.

Getting Fit

It was time to take action. After over a year of vegetating indoors - practically taking root in my desk chair - I have finally run out of excuses and started Jillian Michaels 30 Day Shred which seems to be working in that my legs are killing me. But it's good to feel fitter. I've even splashed out on a new mountain bike.

I used to be fitter but in the last few years it's slipped down my list of priorities to somewhere behind Sprawling and Pigging Out.  That's the trouble with a sedentary lifestyle where the most exercise you get is clicking a mouse button. But I do find better fitness is worth the effort in lots of ways other than squeezing into my clothes. More oxygen to the brain fuels creativity and ideas come more easily. Energy levels increase so housework and anything requiring effort becomes easier. 

Part of my new fitness kick is cutting down on the junk food and alcohol which hasn't been as hard as I'd imagined. I'm sleeping better and feeling calmer. 

So, what do you do to keep in shape?

In Praise of Scrivener

One question that frequently comes up on writers' boards is whether to use writing software. Does it help?


Well, as I've frequently said on this blog, I am something of a writing software junkie.  Or at least I was until I bought the software that cured me. It wasn't easy. It meant changing to a Mac computer, but I've never regretted it.


Now, I should say for starters that no writing software will do the work for you. But a good programme, like a craftsman's tool, makes everything so much easier. When I started novel writing I wrote in Word which seemed to serve my needs adequately during the drafting stage. It was only when a huge revision was needed that I realised its limitations. Don't get me wrong, Word is a brilliant word processor. It just isn't designed for large scale projects and when it comes to moving large chunks of text around it is clunky and slow. Not ideal. That was when I became tempted by Scrivener.


Scrivener is the perfect tool for novelists, although it can be used for any type of writing. You can organise your chapters and scenes right from the planning stage through to final revisions and shuffling things around is dead easy. The Binder, at the left hand side of the screen, shows graphically how your scenes are laid out so you can see everything at a glance. Your scenes are also summarised on index cards so you can move them around that way too. There are templates for character and scene descriptions, customisable full screen mode for writing without distractions, automatic backups and easy import of research files from the internet.  And loads more. Really, this programme has it all. I've never felt the need to use any other programme in the few years I've used it.


So, if you have a few bob to spend and want to make your life a lot easier you could do worse than buy Scrivener. You can even download a free trial first, to see how you like it. More details can be found here.

The Graveyard of Abandoned Projects

Gah! I have been through the wringer with this WIP, let me tell you. I don't usually suffer from writer's block but there are days when it's like wading through treacle.


But finally the end is in sight. The end of this revision, that is. And possibly the end of this WIP because I promised myself if one more run through doesn't fix it I would stop torturing myself and consign it to the Graveyard of Abandoned Projects.


The trouble with this writing lark is the more you do it and the more you learn about what is right and what is wrong the harder it becomes to feel satisfied with what you've written. I've learned a lot writing this particular book, or I should say rewriting it since I've spent more time doing that. I have umpteen files of discarded material as proof of my many changes of mind. But at least I've stuck with it and should have a semi decent draft of something which may never see the light of day but does at  least have a beginning, middle and end.

More on Reviews

I've discovered a new pastime/hobby/source of entertainment.


Purely by accident I wandered into a page of one star Amazon reviews for, of all things, a Bic ballpoint pen.  You wouldn't have thought such a mundane item could be the inspiration for such hilarity, would you?  But it's a testament to how creative people can be.  


So it's set me off on a mission to find the most creative reviews.


Here's a great one on best selling Mum Porn, Fifty Shades of Grey.


Have you seen any brilliant reviews lately?  Please post your suggestions in the comments below.

Reviews and Author Feelings

Reviews have always caused angst.  A good review in the right place can propel a book/film/show into the stratosphere, and let's face it nobody likes a bad one however much they may claim to ignore them.


Time was when only professionals could review, but no longer.  With customer feedback on all retail sites and Goodreads, suddenly everyone's a critic.  And these days, with more people dipping a toe into self publishing, the question of eliciting good reviews raises its own ethical issues.


I recently encountered a situation where a SP author had entered into a reciprocal arrangement with another SP author to review each other's books.  A problem arose when, having read the book, she felt unable to give more than two stars as she could clearly see its faults.  "How do I review the book without hurting her feelings," she asked.


The trouble with this sort of arrangement is it can lead to a You Scratch My Back and I'll Scratch Yours scenario that devalues the whole reviewing process.  I've seen people say that they no longer trust Amazon five star reviews because of it, which is a shame because hearing others' opinions can be very useful, but only if the opinions are genuine.  


If you feel your hands are tied, because you naturally want the author to look favourably on your own book, there is no way you can give an honest review.  Even if you try to soften the criticism with blander statements, what use is that to potential readers who the review is for?  If you can't tell the truth, don't do it.


My friend decided not to review the book in the end, explaining her concerns to the author by email. I think this was the best course, and a lesson for the future to avoid such arrangements unless you have already read and enjoyed a book and could endorse it with total honesty. 


The best way to get a five star review is to write a five star book.  

Back!

So many shades of green!

Normal service has been resumed.

It was nicer than I expected.  Our cottage was near the loch side so you could walk from the front door down to the water where it was so peaceful, apart from the lilting burn (which was pretty full - we got our fair share of rain although the sun shone more than I dared hope),  the only other sounds the meh-ing of sheep in the nearby field and birdsong.  We discovered a colony of lizards in the rockery and one evening I spotted the barn owl, an eerily silent figure flitting through the orchard.

And midges.  Of course.  I got a good crop of bites - by the way, why is it always me who gets eaten alive and not OH?  Is his blood less tasty?

And it turned out we had wifi which I didn't expect so I've been lurking about the internet after all.  So much for my good intentions.

Anyway I feel relaxed and spaced out now so it's ironed out a few of my wrinkles.  Here are a few snaps to give you an idea.

At the loch side

looking towards Schiehallion

Me & Theo with OH and son Scott

Hodilays!

Well, it's finally arrived.  My long anticipated holiday is here at last.  In a few hours I'll be zooming up the motorway to the Perthshire wilderness for a week of solitude, pub grub and no internet.


It's odd but the prospect fills me with a kind of giddy panic.  It's so easy to go online I'm hardly off it these days - not that that's a good thing - but I'm hoping its absence will help me get my head together on one or two projects.  


I'm taking a minimum of writerly paraphernalia, basically notebook and pen. It's so long since I didn't type it will be interesting to see if I can still write longhand.  I might end up pulling something and having to wear a splint.


This being Scotland there's a good amount of rain forecast, so I might even drown!


Anyway, before I go here's an interesting blog post I spotted this week that might be worth your attention.  


Be good!

This and That

A miscellany for you this week.


I'm not a fan of writing rules, as you know, but this list from legendary film makers Pixar hits the spot.


And speaking of legends, master novelist Ray Bradbury passed away this week.  Here is a lecture he gave in 2001 to new writers.  Enjoy!

The Joy of Editing

I'm heavily into editing this week.  It's tough going but I think I'm making headway.  One thing I'm discovering as I go along is whenever I hit that wall - you know the feeling where you catch yourself procrastinating and can't get then energy to drag yourself back to work?  Well, whenever that happens I'm finding there's something fundamentally wrong with the scene itself, either it's not needed at all or it's the wrong viewpoint.  Often times the whole scene is redundant.  I find that in the early stages of writing a story you write a lot of stuff that turns out to be unnecessary, it's part of the process of discovering the characters and exploring the story world.  I'm trying to trust my instincts in this edit.  If my heart isn't in it, that's a sign that something radical needs to change.


What about you?  Do you have any tell tale signs that signal a need for radical editing?

Back on Track

I'm feeling uplifted this week.  It's not just the exceptionally fine weather which has sprung unexpectedly from the depths of a wintery deluge, although that doesn't hurt.  No, I've had something of a breakthrough in my thought processes.  For months my current WIP has been languishing in limbo, resisting all attempts to kick it into a shape fit for consumption.  My creativity has been stymied by indecision.  In the last month I dragged it out of mothballs and forced myself to rearrange the scenes.  This helped get me involved with it again but still the same doubts lingered. I know the story and don't want to change the plot significantly, but the structure wasn't right and I couldn't see how best to fix it.


As I mentioned last week I've been revisiting my old friend Dwight Swain, and his chapter on Beginnings, Middles and Ends pinged something in my recesses of my brain.  Thus inspired I have set to work on the editing - hopefully the final attempt, if this one doesn't crack it I will shelve this project for good and chalk it up to experience.  So now I'm feeling purposeful.  It's a bit like realising where you are when you've got lost.  I have a plan of progress to work to and it feels great.


Because I like to write.  When I don't write, because I'm stuck, I get anxious.  But sometimes it takes a prompt from somewhere unexpected to help get back on track.  That, for me, is the best use of How To Write books.  The good ones will fire your imagination and help negotiate tricky problems.

What I'm Reading

This week I have been mostly reading:


Techniques of the Selling Writer by Dwight V. Swain


I read this book yonks ago but what's alarming is I don't remember much of it.  Maybe it was too soon in my writerly development to make an impression.  Anyway, I saw it recommended recently and decided to revisit.  As you know, I'm something of a How to Write bookaholic - can't count how many I've devoured over the last ten years.


It's a relatively old book (first published 1965) but even taking that into account he gives sound advice on writing better stories, from structuring conflict  to developing workmanlike habits.  He stresses the importance of feeling in writing fiction, something that's easy to loose sight of when researching and becoming obsessed with facts.


Plotto by William Wallace Cook


Has been on my night stand for a few months.  It's another old book - 1928 this time - and is less a how to book than a catalogue of complications to help construct plots.  To be honest, I'm finding it hard to get into and haven't quite cracked the system he uses despite a couple of attempts.  Maybe I'll take it on holiday with me next month and give it my fuller attention.


The Secrets of eBook Publishing by Mark Coker


This is an easy to read guide by the founder of Smashwords.  Downloaded onto my Mac which means I can only read it in bite sized chunks, but a useful guide.


Think Like A Publisher by Dean Wesley Smith


Another How To guide, from publisher and author Smith.  Makes interesting reading on all aspects of setting yourself up as a publisher.

More Internet Insanity

There's an old saying, "Nowt as queer as folk!" And if you hang around the internet for long enough you'll find it's no exaggeration.


This week I was tipped off on a writers' forum about a blog post where a self-published author had voiced some opinions on reviewing.  The forum post was clearly a call to arms because when I followed the link I found a dozen or more posts haranguing the poor woman for nothing worse than having an opinion.  How dare you, they cried as one, tell us how to voice our opinions.  Shame it never occurred to the nitwits they were doing the exact same thing.


Because we all have opinions and we all think we're right.  Maybe we are, maybe we aren't.  But unless we're putting a gun to someone's head and forcing them to do our will, where's the harm in it?  If you don't like a book or a blog or the colour of someone's hair, so what?  You're entitled to your opinion just as I'm entitled to ignore it.


The internet community is a funny place.  It is an unreal world peopled largely by creatures of our own imagining.  We put faces to these strangers based on the things they post - we begin to feel a connection or a revulsion depending on how well they match up to our own values, and it can feel oddly intimate considering it is nothing more than words over the ethernet.   For some individuals the internet should come with a health warning because that very anonymity brings out the worst in them.  I've blogged before about the groupthink effect on forums, but there are also trolls who no doubt see themselves as crusaders, ridding the internet of injustice, persecuting anyone whose ideas they dislike, stalking and spying in a way only previously found in Le Carre novels.  It's bizarre to the point of insane.  Isn't it enough for these people that they be allowed to voice their opinions?  Apparently not.  


I recently saw a discussion about whether Mein Kampf, Adolf Hitler's infamous magnum opus, should be republished in Germany.   I hadn't realised it was banned there until now, but it doesn't surprise me.  We have come to think of Nazism and fascism as synonymous, thanks to several decades of hefty propaganda.  But the fact is fascism is all around us and always has been.  It's in you and me.  Yes it is.  Whenever you want to delete a comment or ban a poster who has said something you don't like, that's fascism in action.  It's a human disease - intolerance.  But really, there is no need to ban or edit or delete anyone.  


Because they're just opinions, people.  They can't hurt you.