If the truth be known, I’m no longer attracted to neoprene and rubber. I want filth and depravity and to seek a greater knowledge of words.

Back in the days, I was a typical mediocre goofy kid.
I began a convert love affair with the English language, united in the filthy recesses of a stinky English classroom in a hush-hush ceremony away from the snooping corporate jargon and all that other mumbo jumbo. The honeymoon took place in the local library - right at the back, in the fiction section, where the lights are dim and the dust sparkles in the sunbeams. It was during the first date that first chapter emerged: a beautiful poignant narrative with all the grammar intact. A 30,000-word tour de force that was conceived in love and witnessed by Jack London, Louis L'Amour, Erle Stanley Gardner’s, Ernest Hemingway and Jack Kerouac.
My imagination ran wild with excitement. I couldn’t stop my untamed desires and fingers from typing irregular musings, social sludge and assorted comment-droppings. As the years rolled by, the library mothballed but I eventually found sanctuary. I developed into an explorer of witty words, a wordsmith, pragmatist, an all-round likeable chap, a superhero that doesn’t wear a cape - that stuff is for wimps - with skills in the ancient art of communication.
I became fascinated in that extraordinary point between imagination and words and how it can affect a person’s mood. Both of them on their own aren't as exciting as when they collide. I strive to make every effort to understand and balance both, so I can develop as your ‘go to’ copywriter who will generate positive and meaningful memoirs for your audience, and your clients.
My revamped letter, for your eyes only, is my idea of a spanking new résumé, and let’s face it – the accepted résumé suck.

Work Terms

I don’t take myself too seriously: I don’t want to risk coming off as pompous. Like most things, my unknown typing dexterity and cleverness can be toned up or down. I am a human, not a robot. I do take responsibilities - seriously.