Because it is very stupid. I could be doing a million other things, enjoyable things, non enjoyable things, things which could even make money.
As I am approaching 41K WC of my FD WIP*, I begin question my own sanity again. I do not know what it is that makes me write. I really hate it. Like Dorothy Parker says, I hate writing but I like having written. I did not choose writing. Writing chose me. (why, or why didn’t banking or dentistry choose me???) When I first started doing it at age 8, I thought that this is what everybody did in their spare time and later on, as a youth and as an adult, I did it secretly, like it is drug, or self-harm. I knew it was bad but I carried on.
Why I am trudging along, still another half to go of this new novel:
a) I need more practice
b) I want to meet a community of writers, fellow-sufferers, cheerleaders, like-minded mentally ill people, deluded with same goal but different delusion people. I want to ‘join the club’,
c) I wrote two books and several short stories. My first novel and one of my short stories have won international awards. Other short stories were published. Now only I can see people value what I’m doing (“I think she can write”) therefore it is worth continuing. Readers I do not know in person tell me they like it or they hate it. But I have readers!
d) I need to improve my confidence because each day I wake up I have to start again vis a vis Groundhog Day effect. Ultimately goal is: to write everyday (making it a habit). Doesn’t matter good or bad.
e) it appeals to my vintage and frugal lifestyle. I am not a photographer or painter or classic car collector. You don’t need anything but a brain and a computer to write, so its saves space and expenses.
Yesterday (what wedding? You mean there was a wedding yesterday?) I wrote 821 words of my WIP. Woof! So here you have it. The reasons.
Carefully compiled footnote:
K= thousand WC = Word count FD = First draft WIP = Work in Progress
My aim had always been to be a published author. I have achieved my aim. Now what? Writing a novel or two is the biggest time, energy and mental pressure you can undertake. In fact to write this blog post I had to take two Nurofen and a double espresso macchiato in order to steady myself. I have been writing for 40 years on and off, therefore I am not a new writer. But I still put wine, blood, paracetamol, sweat, caffeine, cortisol, endorphins and tears into it. Now I have learned that as a newly-published author, I still have more to learn.
1/ Sales of the book won’t make you a living.
Even bestseller authors have to work another job – usually related to writing such as journalism or teaching and lecturing in a related subject. The reason why writers write is because it is an incurable mental illness, an obsession, a love. It’s like asking the obsessive compulsive cleaner – “hey, why do you clean so much? It’s clean already.” Those who start out thinking this is a fun hobby will either quit or realise it is not a fun hobby, and then quit. If that obsession is there, the writer will carry on writing in spite of everything. That is how you know you have the bug.Therefore no writers can aim to do it as a means of livelihood, as they mostly earn less than the minimum wage. In the Guardian article ‘Most UK authors’ annual incomes still well below minimum wage‘ on 9 Oct 2016,
…life is less than super for many authors in the UK, with average annual incomes for writers languishing at £12,500.
This figure is just 55% of average earnings in the UK, coming in below the minimum wage for a full-time job at £18,000 and well below the Joseph Rowntree Foundation’s minimum income standard of £17,100.
In an industry that is becoming increasingly unequal, those at the bottom of the income distribution continue to struggle. Only half of the 317 UK authors who responded to the survey said writing was their main source of income, with respondents who offered a figure reporting total earnings from their latest book averaging at £7,000.
This is not a ‘new thing’. Writers we know and love from the past also had to hold day jobs:
Lewis Carroll, author of “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland” and other “literary nonsense,” was also a mathematician, photographer and teacher.
Frank McCourt, author of the Pulitzer-winning memoir, “Angela’s Ashes,” taught in New York City high schools and colleges during his entire career.
Jorge Luis Borges Argentinian author of “Ficciones” worked as an assistant in the Buenos Aires Municipal Library, and eventually became the director of the National Library.
2/ What you wanted to publish will not be published and what you didn’t want to publish will be published
Caveat: Unless you self-published. No building is built exactly as the plans, unless you built it yourself. Publishing is a collaborative process. You are only one cog in the wheel and no doubt the most important cog but there are other cogs turning that wheel. There will be changes along the way, usually due to budget, darling-killing and changes of vision. This is down to the contract. The contract is the agreement between you and the publisher to create the book. Both you and the teams will work together and have a say in the end product. You can put your foot down but usually they are right. They are the professionals. My day job is being an architect. I tell my clients what they should do all the time and if they don’t do it, I will do it anyway. Otherwise you will have no overall cohesive design ethos and you will end up with substandard junk which you will get blamed for so you may as well get blamed for something great than some substandard junk caused by them.
When you hand over the manuscript, the multiple levels of editing begin. At the moment I am coming out of editing hell, and this is why it is fresh in my mind and I am well-equipped to inform those who have not entered the seven gates of editing hell. Every sentence, punctuation marks and word will be examined. Every sentence has to flow logically into the next and there must not be a single discrepancy, inconsistency, continuity error or nonsensical or cop-out statement. You must not sound like a madman. Even books about madness are written by the sane, and has to appear compos mentis. The editing process is like ironing. You go back and forth and back and forth between the editorial department and you until the product is smooth. My first book has gone through 19 rounds of editing (not even accounting for the 12 years of editing before those rounds before I made any submissions). My second book is currently on 9 rounds (also excluding the years of my own editing). Sometimes you are blind to your own errors because you have seen them too many times and you don’t realise they are actual errors.
3/ You wrote the book and and now you do everything else
A big deal for little words
Nowadays publishers want to know how many followers you have before they even take you on.This is why anything that Jamie Oliver or Joe Wicks write will sell, will have a publisher. Their follower count is in the millions. If only 10% bought their books, that is still a substantial earner. I had to learn this while pitching my book. The Unbound pitch has questionnaire questions relating to your network, real or virtual. If the publisher likes your brilliant book, they also like, in the back of their minds, your follower count and your social media platforms.
Because of the competitive and declining market these days, in order to be successful, most writers have to work hard at promoting their own books much more than the publisher. This is because there are too many books, put simply. Because they are a business, they have to take on a lot of books in case a few become ‘hits’, the rest can die, no worries. One publisher has to handle between 10 to 40 books each, and though they are spread out through the year, they have to promote all of them. Naturally their focus is divided. If you had 36 children (at the rate of 3 being born a month) you will also not be able to give much attention to each.
4/ You are your own Book and Blog Tour Organizer
Of course you can get on a plane. You will get what you pay for, and touring around the world is expensive and you may only sell twelve copies, if any. You might sell one. I have not much motivation in touring as I have been a musician with my band Satsuma and the gigs take an enormous amount of time loading and unloading, driving around, soundchecking, eating backstage, not to mention hair and makeup and the actual rehearsals, even when you have a cold and in all kinds of weather conditions – all for a 22 minute gig (if you are the headlining act) in which you are not sure if anybody will turn up if the weather is terrible. Therefore authors have to use effective internet marketing such as virtual book tours. There are very few real bookshop or real events being offered by publishers. I am now involved in a ‘blog tour’ with five of my fellow Unbound author whom I see as friends, colleagues and associates. It is a ‘tour’ where we move around and each write for each other’s site in a guest post on set dates. It’s very enjoyable and I am traveling the world from my armchair, involving no Bureaux de Change or visas queues. I have just completed writing my blog about Bill Colegrave’s Scraps of Wool, on the golden age of travel writing focusing on Central Asia, Indochina and the Maghreb (read the blog post here). Scraps of Wool was published recently by Unbound and shares the same publication date asmy debut – 16 November 2017. Also completed is Carrie Jo Howe’sIsland Life Sentence which is fiction set in Florida. You cannot get more destinations than these in four weeks, what more do you want from a tour?
5/ You are your own Launch Party Sponsor/Organizer/Host
Launch parties are for fun and they do not lead to sales. Only because people don’t want to carry a book while munching on greasy snacks with one hand and holding a drink in the other hand. There is no hand left for the book. Even successful authors have to throw their own parties, if they can be bothered. If they are successful they would have been to and done a lot of parties already so they may be partied out.
I put my own money into the London launch of my short story “Funny Mountain” in Hungry in Ipoh anthology held at my friend Sunita’s and Rufus’ art gallery Knight Webb Gallery in Brixton. If you are interested you can read the blow by blow account of how I did It, where I bought cheap drinks and so on. I even brought in the snacks and my friend Sunita kindly heated up the snacks in the vintage oven. Being a writer means there has to be family and friends who care about you being in fantasyland and living the writer life. You are not some banker. Even if you were, they will wonder why you need any help, but still help you. The party will be for them too. It is not for getting new people in, not for selling books, it is for thanking your own loved ones, your publisher. Without them, you would not be a writer. They may or may not buy your books, read your books but it does not matter. Most of all they know you want to be a writer, and they will want to celebrate with you. They will help you with the launch. You only need to ask.
View towards front of gallery
6/ Be grateful… the party has just begun
Being a published author means the party is not over…. the party has just begun! Long live writing and publishing. Do not get sucked in to what other writers are doing or not doing and feel you are not doing enough or you are doing too much. Your job as a writer is to write the best bloody book that you can. Your job is not to sell stuff, do ironing, be a bartender, organize events or do catering. Every writer is different and thank God for that. Know and recognize what you have achieved. Remember how hard it was to get published (camel, eye of needle etc)? For me to get my first novel out took 12 years, 89 rejections and an award. It is a feat and a celebration in itself. Every day I remind myself that I have earned my right to exist as an author, to tell the story that had to be told, in the way that I wanted it told, so that now it exists not just on my hard drive but in the world. It was what I fought hard for.
Are you a published author? How do you think you have been transformed by the experience? If you are unpublished, what are your expectations of being published? If you have enjoyed this blog post, please share and do drop me a line. As usual I would love to hear from you.
Did anybody catch this on the BBC over the weekend? A terrible TV film about three Chinese girls in London called CHINESE BURN. The script is so shocking and racist I can’t believe it was made.
One has a permanent cleaver looking at little dogs to chop up and eat.
One is an out-of-work actress who auditions for endless prostitute or cleaner roles with kungfu thrown in.
One is a failed sommelier walking around as a human signboard for bubble tea, who gets molested by her Chinese boss but ends up giving him a hand job.
Very poor. None were empowered or normalised or fit into society as they were terrible cliches and stereotypes of people who don’t even exist, like pulling their eyes into slits. It’s like the writers went: “Hey I know! Why challenge stereotypes when we can reinforce them? This is a great idea. Let’s call it diversity, heh heh! Just throwing that word in for luck. Let’s create hideous characters, the dregs of humanity. Not an ounce of delight or warmth. Let’s call them Chinese girls.”
OK that is my TV review. Apparently it’s a comedy too but it’s not funny at all. Will black people or white people find this funny? I am a very humorous person too – people tell me I am a funny girl. But this show is stupid and not funny.
How are we supposed to move forward when we are moving back all the time? We as in everybody, not just Chinese girls. We as in scriptwriters, writers, thinkers, workers, doers, the Beeb. I am waiting for something clever and funny. Not asking a lot, you see, just some eye candy while ironing.
So you have pitched and now you are wondering how the hell did I do?
1. On the pitching letter. Make it pithy and make each one the best letter you ever wrote. If you know them v well, aim for the heart. Go deeper. Ask how Anna’s Grade V piano exam went and how James’ operation in July went for instance. This is to show you have a very good memory. A pitch is not a friendly email and a friendly email is not a pitch. Each pitch has to be tailor-made. The hello how are you is very impersonal and could be cut and pasted from another pitch. If you are close to them, then show them that this project is close to you by being specific. If you don’t know them very well, see this other post, Your Crowdfunding Pitch Letter.
2. On being ignored. Do not take it personally. It’s sales so it’s irritating for both seller and buyer. I understand what you’re going through, it’s very hard to stomach it. We have all suffered. “A moment of optimism will save you a hundred days of sorrow”- Chinese proverb
3. On rejections- it’s to do with courses for horses – naturally your own project is close to you but literally no one cares and no one is thinking about it.. E.g. 1 More than half of my close family on my mother’s side are all born again serious religious types. Why would/should they support my book about immorality and the life of excess in the west?! I respect them for that.
E.g. 2 You may have made the best banana cake in the world but if they don’t like bananas and/or they don’t like cake they will just not buy your product. There is no try before you buy. Therefore in your pitch you have to work out why they need to fund this project. It could be as simple as they like you and they want to support you. In fact I recall many instances where I end up buying some beauty product I don’t even want or like because I really like the seller and I bonded with her/him. Also eco, yes, sustainable, yes, ok whatever, I’ll just shut up and hand over my credit card. What usually sounds good is probably good.
4. It’s just statistics or a numbers game. If you ask 100 people to a party and thirty say yes then that’s not a bad return. If you increase that to a thousand and three hundred say yes then you’ve got it! It’s a party!
5. There is no 5. Just go back to the Thing about the moment of optimism.
Dude, I am not allowed to complain because I was and am a writer therefore I am already a masochist. In fact I am hanging upside down now flogging myself. It took me more than a decade (I think 13 years and still counting) to write both these books. They are at last both being published the TRADITIONAL way which was what I wanted. It’s a dream come true so that is why I am not allowed to complain. Headache, backache, finger pain, joint and wrist pain, hangover, insomnia, stress, hives, hypertension, hyperventilation, just hyper, overeating, undereating, sick or feeling sick, nauseous, tired, exhaustion, not enough sleep, too much sleep, over caffeinated, under caffeinated, not enough guitar-playing, too much guitar-playing. A Tale of Two Books in Two Months. If I complain, somebody please give me a slap.
And this is caused by?
Myself. Over the last five weeks I have been feeling very stressed, not only were there three disasters in succession in London – the London Bridge attack, Grenfell Tower fire, and the Finsbury Park mosque attack, I have had to handle the most crucial process of the fantasy world of writing and art. Turning them from ideas to reality. There were actually real disasters going on out there that I just could not ignore. My own writing and art have suffered delays because I am in that crazy living-the-dream situation of having two books out this year and at any one point, one has to be ignored (usually “one” means me, but this time it means one of the books). It’s called sibling rivalry and I cannot give attention to both at the same time. I am a mum so I know this for sure.
What have you been doing all this time?
Well first I wrote the books. That’s when all the trouble began. Then I crowdfunded one of them and sent one to an international competition. More trouble. Now that’s all over and this timeline begins:
Thursday 30 March 2017 – Submit Heart of Glass MS for structural editing. Finished editing Cry of the Flying Rhino and sent back to Hong Kong.
Friday 12 May 2017 – Received HoG MS with commentary back and Unbound editor’s crib sheet (London)
Tuesday 16 May 2017 – First round HoGstructural edit begins. Work with publisher closely. Start building and compiling international network of writer, blogger, journalist, lecturer contacts for Cry of the Flying Rhino (London, Hong Kong, Malaysia, Singapore… so far) PR later on.
Tuesday 6 June 2017 – First round HoG completed and handed back to Unbound. Start on Cry cover designs.
Friday 9 June 2017 – Heart of GlassEditor pleased. Replied with another sheet of minor comments.
Monday 12 June 2017 – Second round begins. Hand in the Cry of the Flying Rhino cover designs for publisher’s comments
Wednesday 21 June 2017 – Received news that the launch date of Cry is Thursday 16 November 2017 in Hong Kong where I will be travelling to to receive my prize and to do the launch. I am not sure what that entails.
Thursday 22 June 2017– Handed back HoG(this is where we are at). Revise Cry cover designs. Go to printer shop, print and test 300 DPI resolution OK or not. If not OK, must re-do at 600 DPI. Received email that two Hong Kong authors/lecturers have written their advanced comments for Cry back cover text.
Why did you undertake the design of the Cry book cover?
Note: Although the publisher in Hong Kong, Proverse, has a designer to hand, I am actually a designer myself and have been for the last 22 or 24 years (lost track myself) though not a print designer. I know the software backwards. I laid out my school newsletters, Uni journals etc. Since then I have designed countless artwork for my architectural business, band promotional material, posters, CD covers, leaflets, coffee morning artwork for the school, piano lesson artwork etc. Therefore I felt roughly competent and being the OCD control freak that I was, I felt compelled to undertake it. To see the two draft designs click here.
What’s your plan now?
To keep juggling the two as I don’t know how to do a book launch for one book let alone two. Hold that thought. Check back soon. The juggler will be back on the circuit once the traffic congestion eases.
Crowdfunding. Is. Over. The three big little words. 100% in 100 days. And the last 3%? Was the longest, shortest journey in the world (I used to say that about giving birth: new person travelling down 62mm birth canal takes what? Anything from about 2 to 20 hours.) But what a push. What a journey. Made me laugh, made me cry, made me wait, made me cry some more, made me eat carbs. The congratulations have been pouring in from y’all. Since last post, Stephen McGowan, Mary Fivey, Gemma Lloyd-Jones, Jessica Duchen, Lisa Radoje, Lulu Allison, Johari Ismail (my repeat patron!), Jacqueline Sardinas, Nicole Vatanavimlakul have come on board the Heart of Glass cruise and others previously named. 100 days is not long for someone who has been writing for 40 years. So many, many thanks to you. Supporters, apparently you get a top quality, first edition, limited edition paperback, months ahead of the shops – which I did not know before. That’s a bonus, right? A surprise!
If you would like to become a patron, you can! Up to the point where in some factory they press print, you can still have your name listed. Head over here.
Next step: editorial team will be in touch with me in the next week or so to introduce me to my developmental editor and start the editorial process. More news to follow very soon! I love to hear from you. Please leave me your feedback or comments. If you liked the vlog, please share.
OK guys so for 24 hours I had to get away from London, the internet, social media, work, family, self marketing and of course this crowdfunding (CF) lark. Luckily my friend Yvonne Lyon invited me up (not up, sideways, sorry) for her birthday celebrations. Since this process started I found myself impaired in every way – writing, music, work, sewing, family life. Not to mention I am now drinking everyday and becoming one of those cliched ‘is it wine o’clock yet’ mums. I was doing so well when I went teetotal for three months from September to December last year and was even called a sober skinny bitch to my utter delight. Now not only having put on weight, I’m finding it hard to concentrate and it is wearing me out looking at the percentage everyday. It is quite crippling. I am unable to write a word and I can feel my blood pressure mounting. I am having palpitations and an attack of The Hives (urticaria, look it up. No, not the Swedish band). I decided to go to Oxford and spend a night. I deliberately did not bring a computer and kept my phone off.
Instead of getting there quickly, I was waylaid by an epic journey. It took me 1.5 hours just to get to Notting Hill Gate. District line was not running yesterday, I didn’t know, had to take 39 bus to Putney Bridge, 74 to Lillie road, Fulham, 28 from Lillie Road, Fulham to Notting Hill Gate! Complete nightmare. Meanwhile it was pouring non stop, of course it was. That is called sod’s law. Was soaked. Walked in wrong direction of Oxford Tube bus stop. Found out. Walked in correct direction. Even heavier rain. When I got to the bus stop N or whatever it was, I had missed one bus by one second. The bus driver refused to open door even though he was still there at the stop! Waited for another. Finally, got on oxford tube and in total the whole journey took 3.25 hours! During all this travel nonsense l, being soaked, did not take out phone, or book as did not want to get anything wet. There was plenty of time to reflect on life so far, so near, take deep breaths and a step back.
When I got to Oxford, my friend Yvonne and I just enjoyed ourselves like the old days, art gallery, talking, food, wine, cinema, more talking, food, wine. I wanted to savour every moment and cherish life minus wifi, social media, life that is pre CF, the vintage life (I believe I even have a hashtag for this, look on the right).
There was a time when writing the book was enough! A time when being able to cook, getting a driver’s licence, getting a degree, a mobile phone, winning pitches and jobs, getting two more degrees, and having children were enough. But after climbing these mountains, I am climbing another – the CF mountain. So now I remind myself to keep calm and Carrie Fisher. She always retains humour in any situation of adversity:
Being happy isn’t getting what you want. It’s wanting what you have.
Anyway it can’t be possibly harder than digging holes in excavation pits by hand, or numerous labour-intensive manual work, or factory work or … how about raising your own children? Which BTW I reckon is still the most demandingly profound unpaid job in the world with no formal contract and no comeback, IMHO. Would suit young people. Work guaranteed all year round. No experience or skills required. Just apply.
Where to start? What nails? I have no more nails to bite. Come to think of it, no cuticles either. Where am I going to get my daily intake of protein from? I’m going to be eating a low carb humble pie from now to eternity. I can stomach this. There is no room for dignity.
It has been a crazy week. I have never done this before. I am learning myself each day. I learn from others. I am learning the ropes. I am learning to give what people want and need, which is this niche I seem to have created, a grave I have dug, back rod I have carved, for myself. The niche of international fiction, postcolonial writing, crime noir, etc. Exactly! What is the et cetera bit?
I have taught myself patience and humility. This is the opposite of vanity publishing. If anybody thinks this, it’s the total opposite. Don’t even go there! Being vain has sold nothing. Ask any cosmetic-peddling salesgirl in a brightly-lit luxury departmental store. Never in my life after three degrees would I think I would have a sales job. Yet now, I have a sales job. I could be selling makeup but I am not selling makeup. I am selling something that does not even exist yet. I am selling the idea of potential, of investment in writing, of myself, selling a dream.
This is me reading from near the beginning, but not the beginning, in my Unbound shed vlog.
This year is the first time I am participating in National Novel Writing Month. I am doing this partly as a challenge and partly as a way of getting another book written under pressure. Today is Day 21 out of 30 and I am only on around 18,000 words.
Why I am doing this thing:
My first novel took 5 years to write. The second took a year and now I am trying to do it all in a month. I wrote nothing in the last five years because I was very put off and I wanted to give up. I can’t give up because in my heart of heart I am an addict, I am consumed by writing and though I have tried I cannot quit. I don’t know why because it is very masochistic and I can’t stand being hooked to anything. Obsessive yes addictive no.
What about the word count?
I know it’s ambitious and I will not make the 50,000 word count in 30 days because that would be writing 1,667 words per day. I am too busy working, looking after children and the house, exercising, cooking to be able to churn out the required amount. In my opinion you either have to be very young or very old to be able to afford the luxury of time, where you would wake up every day and wonder what to do – “oh yes, I know, I will write! Yes I have so much time to write until bedtime! Why not write?”
Writing is pain: if it don’t hurt it ain’t true
As I am no longer a novice(!) I am quite capable of writing every day but I really want to make them count so I don’t want to and can’t write rubbish. I would rather sit and think for an hour than to put rubbish down. I find it very hard to just let rip. There is no correct way to do a first draft but for me, if I let rip and have verbal diarrhoea, it will be very depressing to mop up the mess later and the editing will kill me. So I am going with my slow and steady way of doing things, it will be right in the end, I know it will. Each word I am squeezing out is like a drop of blood. I am having to take paracetamol on word sprint days because my head wants to explode. On average I have been doing 893 words a day as a result of this way of writing.
Here is my screen shot from today, you may have noticed I have written zero words (as I am doing this blog, which does not count as a novel, of course):
What I like about NNWM:
The masochistic aspect. This is all a self-imposed middle-class deadline, don’t forget. I am not a factory worker in Bangladesh who has to write all day and all night and if I didn’t I would be killed or my fingers taken off. If my suffering means I have to take paracetamol or glass of wine, then I feel that I have achieved something, and it wasn’t easy. I also enjoyed the company and the posts from fellow writers I have met on the FB group Ninja Writers. For someone who has always known that writing is a solitary profession, for someone who enjoys being alone, the discovery that there are so many people out there enjoying being alone is insanely wonderful! I did not think this was possible! They have been encouraging and helpful, generous with their wit and humour. Everybody offers, accepts, gives, takes advice and tips. In writing there is no right or wrong. (write or wrong).
What time and place is best for my writing
I tried every technique to test out writing time. Times include: I tried waking up at 6 am to do it before the children are up, in the morning after coffee or after vigorous exercise, at night after the children go to sleep. Places include: on my lap, in Caffe Nero, in the library, at home, in bed, on the floor. All are fine as long as there are no children around If children are around, you can’t even sit for a second let alone write.
In my old age I am very superstitious, I can only write with one pen and I am lucky if it’s pumped already. I can only write on an unlined ringbound notebook. Nothing else works.
It’s called routine. If you do it every day, it does not matter what time or place. This is called the vintage life or some kind of madness. Cutting off the world and entering your own. The words will come. Anyway wish me luck, after all there are 9 days left.
So I had two rejections today, both for short stories. Another for my novel pitch, four days ago.
For those of you who are young (you know who you are), they used to be called rejection slips in the good old days. The postman brought them to your door. They are in thick, creamy, textured, satisfyingly luxurious cards if they are standard rejections with no signature, and A4 thick creamy textured luxurious ribbed Conqueror paper if they have been typed by someone, hence with signature. Wanna see them? I have them in my museum. Nowadays rejections come by email with the heading “thank you for your…”. I don’t need to read the rest. If they liked it and want it, they won’t say “thank you”. Of course not. Why would they say “thank you”? They will start with “we are pleased to…”. There is no “slip”, no textured card to caress, no thick creamy paper to crush or to hang onto with your sweaty fist, no reality, no meaning, nothing but your iPhone screen to look at.
I woke up with this morning told me things were not going well. After a couple of paracetamols, it didn’t go away and after a couple of hours I had to wolf a meal down and pop two ibuprofens. It felt like a hangover and yet I wasn’t having a hangover.
I have been surveying
an office block in Surrey today and had to come home to sad news so not a great day. Tonight I applied to that London Book Fair Agent One to One event. I fully expect to hear nothing. That’s writing life for you. 99.999999999999999999999% rejection. This is for those who have dared to show their stuff and send it out. For those who write and leave it on their hard disk, it’s all OK. The hard disk is the soft pillow. Put your heavy head on it and don’t worry.
As a writer, am I too cool to say this: that I am very disappointed and irritated at myself for putting my stuff out, yet I feel that during the 0.000000000000000000001%* times that I had been successful, I had been truly successful, such as when I won the literary prize. Had I never ever been affirmed as a writer, I would have given up long ago. Underneath the aged grime, dirt and tarnish, the glint.
One has to look on the shiny side
The headache is gone. After the survey in Surrey, I actually found a pound on the ground. The gold disc was glinting. I couldn’t believe it. That’s, like, five ringgit! I had to ask myself, a pound or someone accepting my writing? I am not sure what is the value of my writing. Or dare I say, the worth.
* hope I got the number of decimal points right. If not, shoot me.
no sweets for me
photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/7236774@N05/3518111460″>Pound rolling</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/”>(license)</a>
photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/71380981@N06/16439868149″>Everyone Deserves a Little Portland Oregon</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>(license)</a>