Did I mention I am writing a book?
I started it early this year – or it may have been last year. I stalled for a while, then polished up my first three chapters and sent them to an agent. The very next day she asked for the rest of the manuscript.
I e-mailed a friend. “Oh shit.”
“You’ve not actually written the rest, have you?” She replied. My friend is astonishingly perceptive.
Rule one (I suspect) of finding an agent or a publisher is to actually finish your book first. It’s obvious really, only I was so convinced that I would spend months hawking my tatty manuscript round agents that I would have masses of time to actually finish it in the meantime.
That was July and since then I have written another eleven chapters and have another six mapped out before I can type THE END. I am desperate for more time to write. I write in the middle of the night. I take precious leave days from my full-time job and sit in cafes typing as my coffee gets cold. I write in bed, in the kitchen, on the sofa – I write whenever and wherever I can. I aim to finish this first draft in the next two months so I can send the completed manuscript back to the agent in the New Year.
Who knows what next year will bring?