If someone can make millions off fifty shades of bollox, then surely it is my right to publish my "literary" musings for an adoring audience?  Navel gazing is the order of the day and I intend to navel gaze my way to a first great novel, or possibly become the next poet princess of hearts.  By great, I mean amateur, by hearts I mean the soulless vacuum that is the internet ether.  I think you get me.