I'm off to York the weekend after next. Not to re-visit the fudge shop or the Yorvik Viking center I remember fondly from a child hood holiday on the Leeds-Liverpool canal, but to go to the writers festival organized by the writers workshop.
I get to have a one to one session with a book doctor, and also an agent; and as I booked early a second one to one with another agent about another book. Of course, I am not expecting to be signed up in a blaze of glory, but it's invaluable to get to find out in person why they're rejecting me yet again - not for some masochistic pleasure but because hopefully, they'll give me an idea about what I might need to work on to get picked up. The best outcome I think I might achieve is a 'not now but get back to me when you've done X' type of response; but we'll see.
Other than that, I get to attend workshops, a gala dinner and the chance to meet some of my virtual friends from the word cloud in the flesh, and no doubt talk for hours about literary matters.
So, I'll keep you posted......gosh, it's going to be odd being out in the grown-up world talking about grown-up things!
(and not mention that I didn't get short listed for either competition I entered and have been sulking about it for a week......)
Hello!
I'm covered in flour - it would take too long to explain...
Friday, 31 August 2012
Tuesday, 3 April 2012
A good boy really.
The next competition was to write a flash fiction, less than 1200 words, based on this picture. Not my usual subject matter, then the story written below came to me.
A good boy really.
Our Father, who’s Aunt’s in heaven
...
James always took the short cut
home through the graveyard when Mrs Robtham dropped him on the corner after
school. Most days he would jump from grave to grave and dare to balance on the
big square tomb. But today he was downhearted, trudging along with the shameful
mothers day card in his satchel.
… Harold be thy name …
His teacher had impressed upon the
whole class that Mother’s Day was the one chance they had to say ‘thank you’ to
their mummies for a lifetime of care and love. James believed her with the
fervour of the converted and was desperate for his card to be the best, but
Sally Peter’s pigtail ruined everything.
…. thy Kingston come …
‘Well James, your mummy’s going to
see what a naughty little boy you are when you give her that card. Not a nice
way to say thank-you, is it?’ He teacher said as she got out the mop.
…thy will be done on earth as it
sits in Heaven …
‘Oh never mind now sweetheart,’ Mrs
Robotham trilled as he sat in the back of her musty Morris Traveller with her
two sons, tears running down his face. ‘Sure your mammy knows you love her very
much, she won’t mind. You say a prayer to the baby Jesus and he’ll show you the
way.’ She winked at him. ‘He knows you’re really quite a good little boy at
heart.’
…Give us this day our snaily bread…
Mrs Robotham had got them all to
sing ‘come by yar’ then. She was in the choir with James’s mummy, and once a
man in a black suit had told her she had ‘the makings of a professional
singer,’ so she sung an awful lot, even when the occasion didn’t really merit
it. James once heard his mummy say that she had the ‘makings of a Shepard’s
pie,’ so he often wondered what exactly Mrs Robotham was missing, and hoped
that she’d find it soon and shut up.
… so give us our trespasses…
James reached the big square tomb,
but he didn’t feel like climbing it. There was a small group of people at the
front of the church, so he waited for them to go. One blew his nose on a large
white hankie before he got into a car.
After he watched them drive off,
James glared down at his bag. The offending sugar paper card, once proudly
decorated with yellow tissue pansies, was now mere evidence of his crime. He
wasn’t sure why Sally Peter’s pigtails were so tempting, but they were, and he’d
succumbed.
…as we give those some trespass
against us …
He’d been as surprised as Sally
when the safety scissors, so woefully inadequate against paper, sliced right
through her pigtail. As it landed at her feet, Sally lashed out, hit the paint
pot and blue paint comprehensively destroyed his mother’s day card.
…But deliver us from weevils …
No one had been at all upset about
his ruined card, which James thought unfair. After all, the hair would grow
back.
…For mining the Kingston…
He’d nearly reached the end of the
graveyard, a short hop over the wall and he’d be home. Tears threatened as he
thought of how the tell-tale card was going to break his mothers heart and make
her think he didn’t love her as much as he did.
… The power and the gory…
Perhaps if he finished the prayer
the baby Jesus would hear him and send him a hundred cards from heaven, each
more beautiful than the last? Or maybe he’d send a huge box of milk tray
chocolates, or a big bottle of perfume, or a vast bunch of flowers? Jesus must
understand, he’d been a child too, he can’t have been good every day and he must have loved his mother Mary
Meek-and-mild. They always said how nice she was, though James wasn’t clear as
to why her surname was Meek-and-mild and not Christ.
… for ever and ever …
He screwed his eyes up and felt his
way along the wall of the church. He told himself if he didn’t stumble once, the
magic would work. As he uttered the last words of the prayer he opened his
eyes, sure that this was the moment, this would be the time when the baby Jesus
would finally come through for him.
…ahem.
‘Happy mothers day mummy!’
‘Why thank you James, what
beautiful flowers, wherever did you get them … oh.’
Monday, 2 April 2012
The collateral damage
The
collateral damage.
The man on the
train can’t know how he’s making you feel, but that doesn’t stop you being
afraid. You tell yourself he’s just another passenger; it’s coincidence, but
he’s making you uncomfortable. He’s making you uncomfortable by sitting there,
by wearing a green t-shirt, by eating and licking his fingers. He does it every
time he puts food in his mouth, and it’s starting to annoy you.
You
could move, now the train is emptier, but its very emptiness makes it harder
for you to move because your action will be obvious. When you sat down he was
one of many, now alone it feels like he’s sitting opposite you. As the other
passengers left, you had the illusion he was moving closer, like when the train
next to yours pulls out but you feel you’re moving. Now it’s just you and him
it seems every time you look up he’s staring at you. You hope this is an
illusion too.
It’s
because you’re on edge, it’s because of what happened, it’s nothing to do with
him; this is all you. This is what you’ve got to face, not what happened but
its legacy. Once you’d have barely given him a second look, weeks ago you’d
have read the free paper, written in your notebook or played with your phone,
scarcely seeing him. You’d have sauntered from the station, hands in pockets,
relaxed, walking without thinking, walking like a boy. You’d have wandered home
as twilight gathered behind you like the folds of a cloak, without glancing
left or right.
Or behind.
Now
your lover must wait at the station for you. Condemned to a compassionate
curfew, you’re only allowed out under licence. You must apply for permission to
walk home, transmitting a security code first. Text when you’re at the station,
text as you get on the train, text three stops before home.
‘I
am on the train. I am ok. I am three stops from home.’
Your
lover doesn’t mind waiting at the station. Your lover wants to show he’s on
your side, your lover who would do anything in the world to make you feel safe.
It’s not that you don’t want him to meet you, to care about you; it’s his guilt
you can’t stand. His guilt that he can meet you at the station, but not on the
night it happened, never on the night it happened.
It’s
as if your lover watched you catch the wrong train and waved and shouted but it
was too late, it took you somewhere he can’t follow.
You know it’s
stupid, you’ve said so over and over again; there was nothing he could do, it
was just one of those things, but it’s no good. You can see how much your lover
has been hurt and sometimes that hurt seems bigger than your own.
The
man on the train watches you send the message. You could have told your lover
that there’s a man on the train making you feel uncomfortable, but what good
would it do? The train is taking you home; your lover is waiting on the
platform waiting and worrying, why make it worse?
This
is what you’ve started to do. You haven’t started to feel confident; you’ve
started hiding your anxiety. You’re not sure if it’s you who doesn’t want to
make love since it happened, or them. Sometimes you’d really like to make love.
You’d like to feel innocent hands on your body and lie in a mess of communal
bedclothes and talk and laugh in space you’ve made warm and soft together. But
you’re frightened that you’ll make love and you won’t be alone, it won’t be the
two of you. All the time you’ll be wondering if he is wondering how you feel,
if you’re okay, each simple gesture loaded with a meaning it’s too small to
carry. You’re frightened it might be your lover who’s made uncomfortable by
touching you.
So
for now, it’s safer to lie on either side of the bed, both of you watching and
pretending you aren’t, both of you waiting for the other to find the courage
for simple intimacy; the courage to be lovers again.
One
stop to go, the man on the train looks at you. Suddenly you’re angry, not with
him; no, you are angry with him, you’re
angry with all of them. You’re angry at the police officer that listened
sympathetically; angry that you could see the effort he made to be sensitive,
angry that the effort needed to be made.
You’re angry at sharing your bed with your lover’s guilt and
self-indulgent shame, and furious that you’re angry with him at all. You’re
angry at the book of faces you thumbed through, each looking at you with the
same dead eyed stare. You’re angry that there was a book, that there needs
to be a book; angry that there were pages
and pages of dead eyed stares and none of them belonged to the man that made
you sit in that busy, bright, impersonal office and look for him.
You’re
angry because as you looked at the faces in the book, you realized you were
looking for every one you’ve ever known and wondering what you would do if you
saw them there.
You’re
angry because the only time you saw his stare was when you closed your eyes.
You’re angry
that he has made everyone guilty.
You
look back at the man on the train. You’re sure your heart will explode from
your chest with the audacity of your gaze. You’re sure your skin is burning,
singing like a canary. You want to scream ‘look at me then, go on, look at me!’
He doesn’t
flinch; he just licks his fingers and smiles at you. You feel hot tears stab
the back of your eyes because it is a smile, a smile from a stranger
acknowledging your existence. It’s only a smile, though it makes you swell and
beat and fear, makes your palms tingle and your feet sweat, because what
happened has denied you even the casual intimacy of a smile.
No.
You won’t let
it. This is a war you never asked to be part of, but now you are you refuse to
be its victim.
You meet the
gaze of the man on the train and you smile.
You smile.
The train enters
your station, the name on the sign like the winning post sliding into view. You
gather up your free paper, your hand is shaking as you hold onto the back of
the seat. You press the door release button and read what is written there.
Open doors
close.
You read, and
you look back at the man on the train. He’s not looking at you; he’s forgotten
you already.
Open doors
close, even the ones you don’t choose to open.
You step onto
the platform and your lover smiles at you, relieved. You embrace, and when your
lover moves to let go you don’t let him. You hold onto him and make him hold
you, and press your mouth to his as if you needed him to breath, as if he
needed you to breath. As if you’re home from the war at last.
‘Are
you all right?’ he asks as he touches your face, stroking the flush from your
skin.
‘Yes,’
you kiss him again. ‘I’ll be fine.’
Wednesday, 28 March 2012
The report on my book is back!
The report on my book.
At the risk of sounding like I am doing the equivalent of
someone tripping over and then trying to pretend they always
meant to do that, my first reaction is that the negative points
they raise are the ones that had occurred to me also.
Of course, being me I have already re-written the first
chapter, and I hope that it addresses some of them, but I don’t
want to appear that I am simply saying ‘oh well, I knew that’,
far from it; I hope that I am trying to give lots of thought and
consideration to their advice.
The report itself is a game of two halves; the first section
is by the editor, the second by the agent. I have included my
comments/reactions also, for your own amusement!
Of course, you haven’t read the synopsis and the first
chapter, but hey, if you want to all you have to do is ask!
AT NIGHT, ALL CATS ARE GREY
Your short and long synopsises were both very clear, and covered
all the plot developments which is excellent, but they did lead
me to expect a different kind of book. The
agent has discussed this more fully below, but it’s worth really
thinking about how you would define your work and whether the
writing is working with that definition or against it.
Just a minor point, your spelling, grammar and presentation were
all excellent, but in your short synopsis, you have ‘Danko’s was
involved’… I suspect a typo rather than
choosing to add a possessive when not needed.
Can I just say at this point, and those of you know me will
agree, the fact they only found one type ‘o’ and said my
presentation was excellent otherwise, has pretty much made my
day!
Your writing is very evocative, and you use language well and
descriptively. Agents and publishers often
talk about a ‘voice’, that almost indescribable quality that sets
each author apart from another, and you have a strong voice and
I’d like to read more. Your use of dialogue is especially
convincing, as is your sense of place.
That has to be a good point, pleased with that.
The plot is well constructed with a good blend of past and
present events, and a range of different characters and
events. It’s important to end a novel with
some resolution, and in your case, not only do Saskia and Danko
get to be together, but he re-establishes his relationship with
his daughters so there is an extra element.
Good also, it’s probably the first time I’ve managed to get a
book to end!
I wasn’t sure about Geoff as a character – why would he be making
a pass at Saskia after having left her for another
man? I know people are complex and he could be
a bi-sexual but when men come out as gay and move into a
committed relationship, they are less likely to come back to
their former lives in this way – at least in fiction.
This is the only remark that annoyed me – what does she mean,
that something which might happen in real life can’t happen in a
book? However, I think that this confusion is down to my
synopsis, in my book I have his motivations very clearly defined,
so I need to get them across more clearly in the synopsis. Geoff
is generally a spoilt brat - fatherhood dissapointed him as it
turned out to be all sticky fingers and hetrosexuality - but now
he's made a big fuss and decided he's gay and the shine has worn
of that new toy and he's not so sure either.
Geoff’s motivation could simply be that he doesn’t want Saskia to
start another relationship as this threatens the chance that she
will be a surrogate for him and Michael, and he also doesn’t want
his daughter around someone he identifies as a dangerous Russian
criminal. The synopsis doesn’t make it clear,
but I assume Saskia decides not to have a surrogate
baby? Does she still feel like another
child?
I think she means ‘does she still want another child?’ Again,
for me this fault is corrected by looking at the synopsis,
because she doesn’t really want a baby, certainly not Geoff’s as
soon as she meets Danko.
Re-reading the synopsis it looks as if Geoff threatens Saskia in
some persistent way, is he emotionally
abusive? That would explain her low-level
depression and sense of confusion about her life
generally. I can imagine him having blamed her
for a lot of what went wrong in their marriage before finally
coming out as gay. If she is used to doubting
her instincts and second-guessing herself, this will complicate
her budding relationship with Danko in an interesting way.
This is exactly what is hinted at throughout the book – there
are several references to Geoff controlling what she ate and
wore, and mocking her appearance, and now that they’re divorced,
he still controls her financially and ‘likes’ it when she asks
him for help and money, so I think that I have covered this
exactly as she suggests.
How is the novel structured in terms of
viewpoints? Saskia and Danko are your main
characters and I would like to hear from both of them, perhaps
alternately. Looking at how the plot develops,
there shouldn’t be a problem just writing from their
perspectives, and that would keep it close to the reader.
Again, exactly what I do – the book moves between his and her
viewpoint as the story dictates, so that the reader has greater
insight into the situation than either character. There is only
one moment when the POV moves away from them, which works for me
as it forms the basis of an eye witness account which eventually
allows him to prove self defense.
By giving us the entire back story to Danko’s life in the first
chapter, you remove a lot of the suspense for the reader as to
why and how he has become the person he is.
The only issue I have here is that I don’t give the whole
back story of his life, it’s only two, but the issue here I think
is that I have over complicated it – and not made it clear that
there is a greater threat coming for him. This seems to be the
main problem with the first chapter, and what I think I’ve been
working to put right since. I have clearly made them think this
is what I have done, so that needs to be addressed.
Although you don’t fall into the trap of telling not showing,
which is very common amongst authors, you start with a very
information packed chapter that answers a lot of questions you’ve
not yet had a chance to let your reader ask.
This is now from the agent –
From an agent’s perspective, this project needs a clearer
identity. From the synopsis and character list, as well as the
list of comparable works, I thought it would be either along the
lines of a crime thriller/suspense novel or an upmarket
mainstream novel, both of which are covered by a wide selection
of imprints at publishers large and small. Female crime writers
are particularly sought after in the editorial marketplace at the
moment, so this would potentially be an intriguing prospect for
agents and publishers.
However, the writing in the sample chapter, with its emphasis on
memory and the frequent flashbacks, is quite literary. If you
examine it in terms of the action that takes place in the 2,700
words of this sample, very little actually happens in the present
day: a man fobs off a junkie on the subway to protect a woman,
exits the subway and arrives in a cemetery to visit his dead
lover’s grave. This doesn’t suggest to me that the book is a
mainstream novel or a thriller, both of which tend to feature a
strong narrative drive, at least in the opening scenes; rather,
it immediately positions the book at the literary end of the
spectrum. This means a smaller potential market, but also a more
competitive one as the readers of literary novels (and the
editors who commission them, even at small publishers) are
extremely discerning.
I can see what she is saying here – and I have to agree with
her – I do take some small pleasure that she thinks the idea is
sound, and that the writing is good, but I would also agree that
the chapter she read was not right for the genre as it stands –
she’s the expert after all!
At the moment—bearing in mind of course that the project may
still be in its infancy—I don’t feel the sample material quite
reaches the required editorial standard for a literary novel.
It’s all rather frenetic and disorienting considering how little
present-tense action takes place, flipping between Danko’s
childhood, two stages of his adolescence, the time of his hearing
of Irena’s death seven years before the present day and the
present day itself plus introducing his mother, his lover, his
wife and his uncle. I wonder whether perhaps you’re just trying
to fit in too much backstory too soon in the novel. Particularly
if you are thinking of this as more of a mainstream novel rather
than a literary one, I think it might be a worthwhile exercise to
write these passages of Danko’s history in longer sections and
then weave them together instead of these very brief snippets.
Ironically, these snippets that she talks about were boiled
down from longer sections, maybe I’m getting too ‘cut happy!’ –
Again, I have been working on this and how they are presented in
this section – but it’s all food for thought.I have since cut out
references to his wife, cut down the length of each flashback and
have given each a present day trigger to more clearly explain why
he has a flash back. I have also added in more present day
thoughts and events, and more references to the threat which is
coming for him now.
That said, I do feel you have writing talent and I wanted to
continue reading. Your setting and character sketches are
compelling (though when one thinks about multiplying that many
flashbacks by that number of characters by perhaps 40 or more
chapters, the book starts seeming a little daunting).
Well, can’t moan about that line can I! Though I don’t know
why she would think I would have flash backs for all the
characters, I don’t, I only have them for Danko and Saskia when
they are essential to show where their motivation comes from. But
I guess this really is her saying yes to what I have done, and
warning me not to try and do this for every character in the
book, which is a good point.
I would encourage you to pursue this project, but to be clear in
your mind what you want to be writing. If it is a thriller or
suspense novel, what are readers waiting to find out at the end,
what happens in the first chapter to make them desperate to keep
reading, and where are the thrills? If it is a mainstream novel,
I would advise a slightly less convoluted narrative style in
order to help hook the reader’s attention and make him or her
care about the relationships in the novel. If it is a literary
novel, I’d advise further work on your structure and technique
and further thinking about how best to integrate these with your
themes.
I can get with this – and what I take from it is that the
chapter they have read doesn’t have enough of the present day
threat in it – and I would agree, and with my re-write I have
tried to get a much greater sense of that into it. I don’t think
either of them are saying ‘don’t set this chapter in a grave yard
with flash backs’ I take from this that they are saying ‘ use the
flash back to show us why he is in the grave yard, and what he
fears, and a rising sense of threat - show us the threat in the
present day more being key.
I think the book and you as a writer could have potential in any
of these areas. Where you decide you want to take it from here is
up to you.
Well, that’s nice to hear – I think I’ve got to take that as
a positive that she feels I have the ability to make this work in
any genre, but I need to get the focus right – that’s a question
of time rather than something unobtainable.
The last section is written by the editor.
In summary, you’ve written well and you have a strong story to
tell. Currently it’s straddling genres which
will mean it falls between the cracks when submitting, and that
would be a shame.
It’s harder to place literary novels so I would suggest you
consider mainstream or crime as the directions to go in. Don’t be
misled into thinking that a mainstream or crime novel can’t have
depth of character, or emotional development.
Both those genres would give you a lot of potential for writing
the sort of novel you are clearly capable of.
Once you’ve decided conclusively on your genre, make sure all
your characters’ motivations are clear in your mind, and they
therefore take the plot forward plausibly within the parameters
of how you want it to progress.
In terms of working on your style, as the agent has mentioned,
beware of cramming in too many flashbacks and forwards, and try
to stay longer in the present. If you do want
to concentrate further on the characters’ pasts, then consider
allowing full space to do so – you may find that actually it’s
their pasts and then their collision in the future that interest
you more than a murder and threatened kidnap plot.
Thank you for giving us the chance to read your work, and we wish
you luck with your future writing projects.
(The last line is what they’re all taught to say in agent
school!!!)
So, I am cheered by that, even though there are issues to
address, I feel that they feel I am able to get there with the
skills they have seen on display. As I didn’t really expect them
to crown me as the next literary genius, I feel that I have done
as well as can be expected; and as they have flagged up all the
elements that I also felt needed work, I hope that I can learn to
trust my judgment and get it right.
Friday, 2 March 2012
To bee or not to bee
The husband of my midwife friend works for pest control. His
work mate keeps bees as a hobby, and gets a regular supply as they are not
allowed to kill bees, so when ever they are called to a honey bee infestation
he collects them up and takes them to his apiary.
Last week the two of them got a call out to a large
warehouse with a bee problem, so they donned their bee suits and went over.
When I say bee suits, they weren’t in black and yellow stripes gear by the way;
just the white all-in-ones and hats, thought it would have been funnier if they
went in costume.
However, leaving that aside, they collected a huge swam and
the beekeeper filled up his bee box almost to bursting with sleepy bees. He
drove off in his car, with my friend’s husband following behind in his. Both
men were still wearing their white bee suits, but both removed their bee hats
and slung them casually on their passenger seats.
As they got up to speed on the motorway, the beekeeper’s car
hit a minor bump, jolting the bee box in the back. The lid of the bee box,
improperly fastened in haste, flew open and gradually more and more bees began
seeping from the box. The bee-keeper, now travelling at 60 mph, was suddenly
aware that he had passengers in the back, and saw at once his only option was
to quickly put on his bee keeper hat and mask.
My friend’s husband glanced over and saw the beekeeper now
travelling at 60 mph, wearing a full facemask, with a huge swarm of bees loose
in his car. They moved off the motorway in convoy, my friend’s husband watching
with delight as all the other motorists and, when the beekeeper pulled up
opposite a bus stop, a huge crowd of people realized that there was a man
taking his swarm for a nice drive in the country.
We were speculating as to what would happen if he had been
pulled over by the police - can
you be done for threatening and officer of the law with some bees?
‘Can you wind down the window please sir?’
‘Really … you’re sure about that?’
Tuesday, 28 February 2012
Stupidly happy!
I have won a competition! I don't think I have come first in anything since I won a watch through the unicorn theater when I was nine. I had to draw a picture of when Asterix the Gaul met a unicorn, and trust me, back then a digital watch was a pretty big deal, this was when a sony walkman cost the equivalent of £300.
Anyway, I think I am just as amazingly pleased now to have won a prize thanks to my pal Rachael (mother of Ruben, which I write like this as it sounds so wonderfully Old Testament) who saw it advertised on Mumsnet. To level with you, I was not totally clear what the prize was, but the challenge was to write a 150 word pitch for an unpublished novel, and the winning pitch was going to be chosen by two editors at Bloomsbury, so frankly had the prize been to make their tea I would have done it!
So - here is my, and oh how I love saying this - winning pitch -
Anyway, I think I am just as amazingly pleased now to have won a prize thanks to my pal Rachael (mother of Ruben, which I write like this as it sounds so wonderfully Old Testament) who saw it advertised on Mumsnet. To level with you, I was not totally clear what the prize was, but the challenge was to write a 150 word pitch for an unpublished novel, and the winning pitch was going to be chosen by two editors at Bloomsbury, so frankly had the prize been to make their tea I would have done it!
So - here is my, and oh how I love saying this - winning pitch -
Grigory Dankovich and his family escape Soviet Russia in 1968. After an
early marriage and life as a boxer, he is drawn into the underworld.
Gradually sickened by what he has become, he tries to escape but instead
looses his family and goes to prison for a murder he doesn’t commit, to
save a naive boy.
Twenty-six years later British artist Saskia Cooper comes to New York
and scratches a living as an interior artist. Marriage, motherhood and a
divorce later, she feels her life has run aground, until she meets
‘Danko’ when she’s commissioned to paint murals in a strip club. They
embark on a passionate affair, which offers him a second chance at a
family life and sets her creativity free at last. Her jealous ex-husband
and a misguided but vengeful gangster from Danko’s past threaten their
future together. To save her, must he loose her forever?
And here's the most joyful email I have read this week -
Congratulations! You are the First Prize
winner of our competition held in collaboration with Mumsnet. Your entry
was chosen from 120 entries and was judged by
Helen Garnons-Williams- Commissioning Editor at Bloomsbury Publishing,
Ele Fountain-Senior Commissioning Editor at Bloomsbury Publishing and Alysoun Owen-Editor of Writers’ & Artists’ Yearbook.
We will be featuring your winning book idea and the
editors’ comments on our website from tomorrow, but in advance, here is
the review written for your entry:
This pithy, fast-paced
description hints at a story full of thrills, intrigue and passion. It
has all the ingredients for a rollercoaster of a ride through the
murkier parts of the protagonists’ pasts and presents.
I defy you not to be caught up by the drama that has been so concisely
but dramatically evoked. Will Danko and Saskia get to live happily ever
after?
As First Prize winner, we are also pleased to offer you a free
How Strong is Your Book Idea? review (RRP £119.99) from an
established Editor and top Literary Agent. I will send a further email
tomorrow with details on claiming your prize. In the meantime, here is a
link for further information on the
How Strong is Your Book Idea? review service.
I will of course keep you all posted and for now, continue to dance round my front room in the sort of happy bubble unencumbered by a digital watch!
(Thanks to Marcus for my photo btw, probably not book jacket material but hey, you never know! And also thanks to Gary at Bubblecow who's e-course on pitch writing has clearly been worth it.)
Tuesday, 7 February 2012
Scribbler: So, how's the research going then?
Scribbler: So, how's the research going then?: (Or - haven't you finished that book yet?) If you do keep an eye on my scribbling, you may remember that I had a big sulk at the start of...
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