William J Archer Freelance Writer | Blogger | Lunatic

Straight to the Blog!

The world is a hellish place, and bad writing is destroying the quality of our suffering. - Tom Waits

A Bit About Me

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William J Archer is an almost-middle-aged husband, and father of two (yeah, third person, but William J Archer can be like that sometimes. He will never do it again though, he finds the level of detachment too real).

I have been honing my literary skills in secret, training in monasteries across the globe, and I am now prepared to come out of hiding and judo-chop my “target audience” into submission.

The word on the street is that I'm the bat in my own belfry, over the rainbow looking for my lost marbles as it were. Be that as it may, I seem to find inspiration beyond the unhinged door of my mad mind, and if that's where I need to dwell to find what I seek, I'll take it.

As a writer, I could go on about myself forever, but, for once, I won't.

Services

The services listed below are meant to give more of a general idea of the types of writing I enjoy the most. Granted, when a person does something they enjoy, and have a natural affinity for, whatever they are engaged in tends to have a certain purity about it that isn't present where enjoyment and talent are absent or struggling. That being said, The lists below are not rigid structures constructed to repel things lurking outside of my comfort zone; I enjoy challenges. And please do feel free to plunge into the blog section for more of an idea as to what types of madness I naturally indulge in.

Creative Writing

  • Fiction & Creative Non-Fiction
  • Flash Fiction, Short Stories
  • Haiku - Usually Humourous
  • Article Writing
  • I especially enjoy surrendering my mind to stream-of-consciousness free-for-alls

*I do not write Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Romance or Young Adult

Blog Writing

  • Travel & Adventure
  • Health & Fitness
  • Opinion & Editorial Pieces
  • Extreme Sports, Dirt-Biking, Fishing & more).
  • Creative Writing Posts of all sorts, (just ask)

*Nothing boring please. You know what I mean; no data-plugging, finance, or other yawn-inducing forms of non-creative torture.

Ghost-Writing

Ghost-writing, as defined by Wikipedia: literary or journalistic works, speeches, or other texts that are officially credited to another person as the author.

Pretty self-explanatory. I will write you top-notch content (please take note of some of the parameters listed in the other two sections of this page), and you pay me for the right to take all of the credit.

Feature Posts

Quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur

 

King Bungle

King Bungle sits atop a rickety, rented throne, dispensing caustic non-wisdom to no-one. Vituperatively venting venomous vitriol toward an unsuspecting and unaware public. Basking in the frigid waters of contempt and judgment.


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King Bungle sits atop a rickety, rented throne, dispensing caustic non-wisdom to no-one. Vituperatively venting venomous vitriol toward an unsuspecting and unaware public. Basking in the frigid waters of contempt and judgment. Dispensing disapproval while desperately demanding to be worshiped by those deemed unworthy. Worship me, oh flawed and foolish farm-trough feeders, give me my fifteen minutes to prove what I’ve always known: that I’m infinitely better than you, and I promise to despise you forever

 

Feelin' February

Icy, electric tentacles reaching down from the sky, filling heads with the fire of ideas. Synapses, sonically booming in the silence of thought. As the conductors of this symphony of self, we organize chaos into expression.


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Icy, electric tentacles reaching down from the sky, filling heads with the fire of ideas. Synapses, sonically booming in the silence of thought. As the conductors of this symphony of self, we organize chaos into expression. Dance to your own song and then pass it on. If they like it, the halls will fill with those that can’t hear their own tune. Make room because the deafness is screaming from every corner of this experiment we call life.

So few, thinking for so many. And fewer still doing their best to think the right things...

 

A Different Window

It’s been awhile since anything new erupted from the tips of these fingers. All re-writing, editing and polishing of turds that have dropped over the many previous months. Angry, pessimistic bombs from the bowels of a poisoned mind...


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It’s been awhile since anything new erupted from the tips of these fingers. All re-writing, editing and polishing of turds that have dropped over the many previous months. Angry, pessimistic bombs from the bowels of a poisoned mind. Shine up my raging misanthropy and ship it off to people I hope aren’t sick of that kind of shit. But now I am.

I’ve escaped from the a primordial ooze on more than one occasion, only to slide back in when the weaker parts of my personality succumb to darkness.

Assorted Works

Your manuscript is both good and original; but the part that is good is not original, and the part that is original is not good. - Dr. Samuel Johnson, to an aspiring writer

Oats for Lucifer - A Short Story

His mother had died before he was old enough to form much of a reliable memory of her, kicked in the head by a horse she spooked early one winter morning as she was bringing it oats. His father found her face-down in the yard, halfway between the corral and the house with the rusty-red river of her life matted and freeze-drying in her cold hair, muddy snow caked on her hands and knees, and a trail of blood painted garishly onto the frozen ground behind her as it disappeared around the corner of the barn like a marker leading to the the scene of a crime. Her name had been Marion.

Fatal Fugazi - A Short Story

The following account doesn’t have a hero really, and there are no car-chases, motorcycle stunts, horse-races, airplanes, or explosions, but I don’t believe there’s a need to spice this narrative up with such things. The following story contains only the elements that made the situation memorable to me in the first place, and I believe that what follows will be sufficient in making it memorable for you, the reader, as well.

It was one of those experiences a body has only once, if ever, and it would certainly be the only one like it I would ever have....

The only time I'll get good reviews is if I kill myself. - Edward Albee

Get in Touch

When I was a little boy, they called me a liar, but now that I am a grown up they call me a writer. - Isaac Bashevis Singer