I recently read an article by Caitlin Moran (this one to be exact), and I had an epiphany.
Fuck me: I’ve let my own preconceptions about journalism get in the way of my writing.
When I say journalism, I really mean reviews. Book, music, whatever. Whenever I go to write about anything I LOVE, I stop because as successful review looks like this:
- Reviews should sound intelligent.
- Reviews should have little emotion.
- Reviews should have a specific format.
Here comes the but – Who ACTUALLY enjoys reading any of the shitty reviews for anything that is released? (Looking at you, The Guardian). I honestly don’t care half the time whether the film/book/album didn’t quite meet the mark, there’s a likelihood that 99% of the time I will enjoy whatever shite is thrown at me.
So I will start again, I shall write a review for something I’ve recently watched or listened to that I adore. An emphasis will be made on the pleasure I have received from it, rather than some bollocky comment on the artistic quality bullshit.
Also, I don’t do ratings, I think they’re pants. On a scale of 1-5, how much did I enjoy this film? Fuck off. My rating is never going to be the same as your rating unless you like bad things.
Oh – Quick review: Please read the article aforementioned. It’s funny as fuck and frightfully accurate.
Peace out xoxo
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