365 Days of writing, 2026 – 7

Day 7 – Dealing with contentious issues

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The Hot-Topic Tightrope: How to Take a Stand on Sensitive Issues Without Losing Your Following

You see it trending. A sensitive, divisive issue is lighting up social media, and a knot forms in your stomach. You have an opinion. A strong one. You feel a pull—a responsibility, even—to use your platform to say something.

But then the doubt creeps in. What if I say the wrong thing? What if half my followers unsubscribe overnight? What if I start a firestorm in my comments that I can’t control?

This is the modern public figure’s dilemma. You want to be authentic and engaged, but you fear the fallout. So, let’s get real about the question everyone is asking: Will taking a stand on a contentious issue cost you readers?

The uncomfortable answer is yes, it probably will. But that’s not the whole story.

The Inevitable (and Good) Loss of Readers

Here’s the thing about taking a stand on something that matters: it’s an act of clarification. You are drawing a line in the sand and saying, “This is what I believe in. This is what I stand for.”

The moment you do that, you create a filter. People who fundamentally disagree with your core values on that issue may indeed leave. They might unfollow, unsubscribe, or simply tune you out. And that’s okay.

In fact, it can be a good thing.

Chasing universal appeal is a recipe for being bland and forgettable. A smaller, deeply engaged audience that shares your values is infinitely more valuable than a massive list of passive followers who feel no real connection to you. The “readers” you lose were likely never your true community to begin with. They were just passers-by.

Think of it this way: you’re not losing followers; you’re refining your community. You’re attracting the people who will champion your work because they see themselves in it. You’re building a tribe, not just a crowd.

How to Avoid Problems: A 5-Step Strategic Framework

While losing some readers may be a natural consequence, starting an unnecessary war is not. You can engage with sensitive topics in a way that is thoughtful, constructive, and minimizes needless drama. The key is to be strategic, not reactive.

Before you hit “publish,” walk through this framework:

1. The ‘Why’ Check: Before You Post

Ask yourself a few critical, honest questions. Your motivation is everything.

Why do I need to say this? Is it to educate, to support a community, to share my unique perspective, or just to vent?
Am I adding value? Is what I’m about to say a new take, a personal story that illuminates the issue, or am I just echoing the noise?
Am I emotionally triggered? If you’re posting from a place of pure rage or fear, take a beat. A considered response is always more powerful than a knee-jerk reaction.

2. Know Your Audience and Your Brand

Context is king. A statement from a political commentator is expected; the same statement from a food blogger might seem jarring. This doesn’t mean you can’t speak out, but it does mean you should be aware of your audience’s expectations. Acknowledge the shift if you need to: “You know me for talking about baking, but today I need to talk about something else that’s on my heart…” This shows self-awareness and respects your audience.

3. Focus on Principles, Not Personalities

This is the golden rule of constructive debate. Frame your argument around your values and principles, not around attacking a person or group.

Instead of: “I can’t believe how ignorant Person X is!”
Try: “I believe in a world where everyone has access to healthcare. Here’s why that principle is so important to me.”

The first statement invites a fight. The second invites a conversation. It’s much harder to argue against someone’s deeply held principles than it is to hurl insults back and forth.

4. Embrace Nuance and Acknowledge Complexity

Few issues are truly black and white. Using absolutist, all-or-nothing language will immediately alienate people who might otherwise be receptive. Show that you’ve considered the complexity of the issue.

Phrases like:

“I know this is a complicated issue with many valid perspectives, but…”
“I’m still learning about this, but my current thinking is…”
“From my personal experience…”

These phrases don’t weaken your argument; they build credibility and show humility. They invite thoughtful discussion rather than a flame war.

5. Prepare for the Pushback (and Have a Plan)

Don’t post and run. Decide in advance how you’ll engage with the response.

Define the line: What constitutes a healthy debate versus harassment or hate speech? Have a clear comment policy in mind.
Decide your level of engagement: Will you reply to questions? Will you correct misinformation? Will you ignore trolls?
Protect your peace: It is 100% acceptable to block, mute, or delete abusive comments. Your platform is your home; you don’t have to entertain vandals.

Knowing your plan beforehand prevents you from being dragged into a draining, unproductive argument in the heat of the moment.

The Power of Knowing When Not to Speak

Finally, one of the most powerful skills you can develop is knowing when silence is the strongest statement. You do not have to comment on everything. Choosing not to speak is a valid and often wise strategic choice.

Consider staying silent if:

You are not deeply informed on the topic and would be adding noise rather than insight.
The issue doesn’t intersect with your expertise or lived experience, and your voice would end up centring yourself instead of amplifying those most affected.
You are not in the right headspace to engage constructively.

Your platform is a tool, not an obligation. Use it intentionally.

Walk the Tightrope with Confidence

Taking a stand as a public figure is a tightrope walk, but it doesn’t have to be a reckless one. Yes, you risk losing some followers, but in doing so, you gain something far more valuable: a clarified brand, a more loyal community, and the integrity that comes from speaking your truth.

The goal isn’t to keep everyone happy. It’s to build something meaningful around what you believe. Be thoughtful, be strategic, and be brave. Your right readers will be right there with you.

A long short story that can’t be tamed – I always wanted to rescue a damsel in distress – 2

Two

I opened the door and was about to welcome them in when I saw a man, about six foot ten tall, 250 plus pounds, and tattoos leaking out of his overly tight collar and ill-fitting shirt.

Not the police.

“I think you have the wrong flat,” I said.

I went to close the door, but a size 20 shoe was blocking it.

“Where is Jake Mistrale?”

Heavily accented English, this man was a thug of the worst order. There was nothing polite about his manner. I needed to think quickly some way of getting rid of this man. He was more than likely the one who tossed the flat before we arrived.

“I’ll tell you what. We can keep talking, you could do something really stupid and break-in, and we can wait for the police to arrive. I’m sure I’m not the only one who would like to know who you are, and who you work for.”

“You are bluffing. There is no police. Where is Jake?”

“I have a question, where is Cecile?”

He looked surprised. “I do not know who this Cecile is.”

“I think she was Jake’s friend, and they are both missing, and I think you know where she is.”

We both heard the footsteps on the landing, just before reaching the floor. The man looked sideways in the direction of the stairs, then, without waiting to see who it was, started walking in the opposite direction. There must be another flight of stairs around the back.

Then two men appeared at the top of the stairs. These men definitely looked like the police.

Both seemed to be surprised I was outside in the passage, perhaps to greet them before stepping into the room. Another two, a man and a woman, dressed in protective clothing, followed them.

The first introduced himself. “My name is Detective Inspector Chandler.” The other man, now beside him, pulled out his warrant card, as Chandler said, “DS Williams.”

Hearing voices, or perhaps wondering what had happened to me, Emily came out into the passage.

“Ah, you must be Emily. I spoke to your father about two hours ago, and he said you should be here. Now, I will need you to remain outside while the forensic team does its magic.”

With that, the two forensic officers went in, and DS followed them, putting on a pair of rubber gloves.

“We didn’t touch anything, by the way.” She then pulled a photo of Cecile out of her bag and handed it to Chandler.

I was waiting to see if she mentioned the note Cecile left. If she did, I would hand it over, if she didn’t that would be our starting point. If we didn’t make any progress, I would give it to Chandler and let him get on with the job.

He looked at it. “I take it this is recent?”

Emily nodded.

“Anything else you can tell me?”

“We know she had a boyfriend named Jake who was not who she thought he was, that she was here a few days ago, and perhaps some of the others living here might know something. We were going to start knocking on doors, but now that you’re here, we’ll get out of your hair and let you do your job. I’ve put my phone number, and James too, just in case you can’t get me.”

Chandler turned to me. “Where do you fit in?”

“Jake’s last name was Mistrale, by the way. As for me, I’m an old family friend. I received a text message a few days ago, which seemed rather odd, so we came over to see if everything was alright. As you can see, when we saw this, things are not alright.”

“Do you have that phone with you?”

I did but I was not sure I wanted to give it up, but a glare told me I had to. I found the text message and gave him the phone.

“Can we hang on to this until tomorrow?” He gave me what looked like a business card with his address on it. “You’ll be able to pick it up tomorrow morning. I’ll get the tech guys to see if they can trace where that message came from.”

“No problems,” I said with a measure of reluctance. Although it was unlikely, she might try to call or text again.

“Now, there’s nothing more you can do here. I’ve got your numbers, and I expect I’ll see you tomorrow morning, by which time we should have made some progress.”

Nothing left to say, he went into the flat.

“Time to go,” Emily said. “We have to get back to the hotel.”

It was loud enough that Chandler would hear her, but I knew what she meant. Time to go to the hotel that featured in the note.

When we reached street level and outside of the block of flats, I had to ask, “Why didn’t you mention the note?”

“Because we would have to give it to him and lose the one clue we had. If it doesn’t pan out then we can say we forgot about it, no harm done. Telling him would only stop us from the investigation, and, if the police go there, anyone who might be able to help us would be less likely to help the police.”

I hadn’t thought of it like that, but it was a valid point.

“So, where is this hotel?” She asked with a touch of impatience in her tone.

“A fair distance away tucked away not far from Whitehall and past, if I’m not mistaken, Horseguards Parade. We might get to take in a bit of British history in the process.”

…

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 6

Day 6 – Writing exercise

Writing exercise

You’ve got a habit of being in the wrong place, don’t you, Sam? But this time…

…

Everyone was busy.

The morning meeting, where the boss sat at the head of a long table, and the writing staff sat, waiting for either a bollocking or an assignment, had travelled along the usual path.

The boss was the typical editor, loud, opinionated, and acerbic. Very few could remember him being complimentary.

I sat at the end of the table, the opposite end, and as far away from him as I could get. He hated me more than any other.

I looked around.

Whether or not they liked their assignments or the request for a rewrite, it was hard to tell. No one wanted to be seen shirking.

Yes, he called it shirking if you were not pounding the keyboard, working on tomorrow’s news today.

And because he hated me, I was last, got the full-on death stare and then in those oily words dispensed with forced amiability, “Jacobs, you got the dead guy, what’s his name, Rickard, Richard…”

“Ricardo,” a mousey voice called out, his current ‘favourite’.

“That dead guy. A thousand scintillating words.”

Then the expansive glare around the table, “Well, what are you lot waiting for?”

Al, just up from me, muttered, under his breath, “A written invitation.” As he did in every meeting.

Another obituary. Another nobody that needed life breathed into the corpse.

A gopher dropped a file on my desk as he went past, not stopping. Not worth the five minutes of hell from the boss about wasting time on idle chatter.

A single page, a name, and an address. Several notes that highlighted a nothing life. Too young to have a life. Too young to die. Too young for scintillating words.

Cause of death? Heart failure.

His photo belied the notion that he had anything remotely wrong with his heart. Adonis himself would be jealous.

Coroner’s report? Heart failure, cause unknown.

Not obese, not too thin, none of the danger signs that he was heart attack material, I knew my way around a medical report and this one?

Something was not right. Was the boss testing me, see if I could see if there was anything more?

Of course, I’d been down this path before and come a cropper. No, the boss took anything I requested with a grain of salt.

“Just report the facts. Don’t embellish, don’t add your suspicions, ten times out of ten you’re going to be wrong.”

And infurioratingly he was right.

Which meant I had to get creative.
…

The name Freddie Ricardo brought up 100,000 plus hits on the search engine, but I found one entry that pointed to an Instagram page that loaded, then disappeared.

Like completely disappeared, returning a 404 error when I tried to reload it. Someone had deleted it just after I found it.

Why?

Who would care?

From the fleeting look I got of it, it was just a guy’s page that had photos of him and friends guzzling beer and either hunting, fishing or acting stupid.

Very unaccountant-like.

Next step, go to the address.

A suburban street, quiet, an old house, run down and in need of repair, garden overgrown. Two car wrecks in the front yard, and an antique car in the driveway.

I sat outside the house for an hour, not a creature stirred, not even a mouse. The car suggested someone was inside, but they didn’t look out the windows, and they didn’t turn any lights on.

At the end of the hour, I got out of the car and walked over to the front door. The fence was falling over, the gate off its hinges, held up by the weeds and growth around it.

The door had peeling paint, but the lock and handle were new. The verandah boards were rotting and in places broken. They creaked as I walked on them.

I knocked. No answer.

I checked the car in the driveway. A fine film of dust covered it, telling me it hadn’t moved in days, maybe a week.

One of the neighbours came out and looked over.

“Who are you?” It wasn’t a polite question.

“Does Freddie Ricardo live here?”

“Did. Who wants to know?”

“I’m from the newspaper, asked to do a small piece on him.”

“No need. He wouldn’t want it.”

“Anyone else live here?”

“His sister. She ain’t here at the moment. I’m keeping an eye on the place. Now, I suggest you leave.”

A sister. Rather a large omission in the briefing paper provided. Research was slipping.

“Fair enough.”

A last look, I went back to the car. I waited, but the neighbour didn’t leave his porch. When he reached for his cell phone, I left.

…

Before going back to the office, I went to the city administration building and met up with an acquaintance who got me a copy of the deed for the house.

It had belonged to the parents, then was handed down to the elder daughter, Bethany. There were only two of them, Bethany and Freddie. He didn’t have a stake in the house.

I ran Bethany’s name in the search engine, and it brought back a few thousand hits, the first with a picture of a brother and sister on the front porch.

The second was a photo of her in a gondola in Venice with a man, Italian perhaps. She didn’t look happy.

From what I could see, the brother and sister were not similar, so maybe step-siblings.

Bethany also had titles to three other houses in the city. Perhaps she lived at one of those addresses and let her little brother stay at the address I called on.

Another acquaintance looked up the car registrations, and for the other cars the siblings had, of which there were four, including one for Freddie.

It was not mentioned in the police report at the crime scene, nor was it at the house, so it might still be somewhere else.

I had another five pieces of paper to go with the photo of the victim and the coroner’s report. It didn’t amount to much.

…

I thought about inventing a thousand words and making him a traitor, but the boss would see through it.

The alternative wasn’t much better; tell him I had nothing, well, suspicions.

I knocked on the door, and he growled something unintelligible. Not a good day.

“What have you got?” He didn’t look up.

“Missing car, expensive. Job belies the income to have it. Looks belie the cause of death.”

“And you infer?”

“Drugs, using, selling. Has a sister in Italy, or not? Needs a deep dive.”

“Is that it?”

“Been to the house. Looks like a mess, but I checked the values. It’s a gold mine for someone.”

“No one home?”

“Not for a week.”

“Talk to your police friends, see if they’ve got a rap sheet. Police miss the car?”

“Not in their report, not where he died.”

He looked up. “Find it, find the sister, talk to the neighbours. Go.”

No third degree, so sarcasm, just barked orders. But I wasn’t going to count the chickens just yet.

…

3am was always the best time to surprise people. My father once said that the best time to get answers was when people were unprepared.

He had been a policeman and kicked doors in at or just before dawn. Disorientation, gear, terror at dawn. Worked a treat.

I wasn’t kicking the door in. I was visiting.

And hopefully the house was still empty.

The back window was unlocked and opened easily. I was able to get to the back because of a quirk in the planning of the estate. The house had a narrow walkway behind it, a public thoroughfare.

At 3 a.m., no one would be about.

I hope.

There wasn’t. The back fence was as bad as the front, with a gap wide enough to squeeze through. The back yard was worse than the front, three cars hidden by undergrowth.

Tripped once and crashed into a car. It hurt

It took a few minutes to get inside. It smelled badly of wet paper and damp. The floorboards creaked. Several pilot lights were giving off just enough light to see by, once my eyes adjusted.

Signs of recent habitation. Fast food wrappers, health drinks, cigarette butts, and beer cans. Half-eaten food with mould. A week, perhaps longer, since anyone was there.

Upstairs.

The reason for the bad smell.

A body, not the sister, but a woman.

No sign of a bag. Dead, checked while trying not to be sick, downstairs, found the bag, wallet, ID. Jessie Walker. This was the residential address; her car was outside.

Long enough to find nothing else. If the place had been tossed, it was done by a professional.

I left.

Found a phone booth and called the police to report the body.

I got back to my car to find two men waiting. There wasn’t much use in running.

“At it again, Sam?”

The two cops that my father had asked to keep me on the straight and narrow.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t insult us, Sam. You know what we’re talking about. You can’t be poking around crime scenes.”

How did they know where I’d been? I’d only just called it in.

They knew. I’d known my father had not exactly been clean, not as clean as he said he was, and besides, clean cops were not murdered in a mob hit. No, these were two acolytes.

“How do you…”

Lance, the more senior of the two, shook his head. “Tsk, task, Sam. Wrong place, wrong time. Don’t make a habit of it now, will you, son?”

I shook my head in that obedient fashion they liked.

“Good boy.” Borg patted me on the head like I was a good boy. I was anything but. A chip off the old block.

“Good lad. Leave this one alone.”

A parting pat on the back, and they left. Was I going to heed good advice? No. I waited for an hour, and then I started searching for details on the internet.

Jessie Walker was famous. Over a million hits in the search engine, and fascinating in death as much as she was in life. For a police commissioner’s wife of three weeks.

She looked so much more interesting alive when splashed all over the front page of the city daily. In death, she would barely rate a second glance.

And what did she have to do with Freddie and Bethany Riccardo? Tomorrow was not going to be a good day.

…

What I learned about writing – The art of effective self editing

Mastering Self-Editing: 10 Practical Techniques for Polished Writing

Self-editing is a vital skill for any writer. Whether you’re crafting a blog post, an academic essay, or a novel, the ability to refine your work independently can elevate your writing from good to exceptional. While peer feedback is invaluable, mastering self-editing ensures your drafts are clear, cohesive, and compelling before sharing them with others. Here are 10 practical strategies to enhance your self-editing process.

1. Step Away, Then Return with Fresh Eyes

Before diving into edits, take a break from your work. A few hours—or even a few days—can provide a new perspective. Distance allows you to approach your text as a reader, making it easier to spot inconsistencies, redundancy, or awkward phrasing. Rushing into edits while still in your “writing mindset” often causes you to overlook errors.

2. Read Aloud to Detect Rhythm and Flow

Reading your work aloud engages your senses differently. By hearing the words, you can identify clunky sentence structures, awkward word choices, and unintentional repetition. For example, a phrase like “The man who lived in the house was tired” might sound better as “The man in the house was tired.” Use this technique to fine-tune your writing’s cadence.

3. Leverage Technology, But Stay Sceptical

Grammar-check tools like Grammarly or Hemingway Editor are handy for catching typos and readability issues. However, these tools aren’t infallible. They might suggest grammatically correct but contextually odd changes. Use them as a starting point, then double-check with your own judgment. For instance, a tool might flag “I am” as redundant in a sentence when it’s actually necessary for clarity.

4. Tackle One Task at a Time

Editing is more effective when broken into focused tasks. Start with big-picture elements like structure and argument clarity, then move to line edits for sentence flow, and finally proofread for grammar and typos. This approach prevents overwhelm and ensures no detail is missed.

5. Trim the Fat: Delete Unnecessary Words

Concise writing is powerful. Remove redundant phrases like “in order to” (simply “to”) and vague fillers like “very” or “that.” For example, “She was a tall, slender woman” becomes “She was tall and slender.” A short list of common redundancies can help you systematically cut fluff.

6. Reverse Outline for Structure Checks

For longer pieces, summarise each paragraph in a separate document. This reverse outline helps identify plot holes, repetitive sections, or tangents. If your summary reads like a disjointed list, your draft likely needs reorganisation.

7. Maintain Consistency with a Style Sheet

Track key details like character names, technical terms, or formatting in a reference sheet. For example, if a character’s surname is “McGraw” in one chapter and “McGregor” in another, this tool ensures consistency. It’s especially crucial for novels or complex projects with recurring elements.

8. Seek Peer Feedback Strategically

While this post focuses on self-editing, one round of trusted feedback can illuminate blind spots. Share your work with peers who understand your goals and ask targeted questions: “Does the argument hold?” or “Is the tone consistent?” Use their insights to prioritise edits.

9. Use the Pomodoro Technique for Focus

Self-editing can feel marathon-like. Break it into shorter, intentional sessions: 25 minutes of focused editing followed by a 5-minute break. This method combats burnout and keeps your mind sharp for small details like punctuation or word choice.

10. Audit Passive Voice and Weak Nouns/Verbs

Overusing passive voice (“The cake was eaten”) can weaken prose. Replace with active voice (“She ate the cake”) unless passive is intentional. Similarly, swap weak verbs like “made a decision” with stronger alternatives like “decided.”

Conclusion: Sharpen Your Craft with Purpose

Effective self-editing is a balance of technique, patience, and critical thinking. By incorporating these strategies, you’ll refine your writing’s clarity, impact, and professionalism. Remember, even well-known authors like Maya Angelou and Stephen King relied on meticulous editing to shape their masterpieces. Start with one or two techniques, practice consistently, and watch your confidence—and your writing—grow.

What self-editing hacks have worked for you? Share your tips in the comments below!

This blog post blends actionable advice with relatable examples, offering writers a roadmap to polish their work independently. By prioritising structure, focus, and critical distance, you’ll transform self-editing from a chore into a rewarding part of your creative process.