I am a carousel. One day up, filled with optimism and hope – they will like my book enough to take me on and guide me through the re-writes. What fun. “Of course I don’t mind re-shaping characters, altering the plot and going round one more time as you put it.” (Aside) I will do absolutely anything and everything you say because, you LIKE my book.
Next day down. Still no email/call. They hate my book. No one will ever like my book. My book is shit. I will never write another book. I must die NOW….or at least lie down and then eat chocolate.
Today is somewhere in between. No email/call yet but happily, chocolate remains wrapped and visions of Beachy Head blurry at best. Better do some work. Or better still, get writing. Now what was that idea for a Sicilian-shopkeepers-in-London comedy I dreamt about last night? Seemed like such a corker while I was unconscious beneath the duvet…
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