This morning I got up not to the dashing leaves that have been dancing in the air for a while, but to a garden crinkled with frost and with leaves tumbling down with a crack. Well, I love it deeply, and I don’t care one bit if it’s cold, it’s not like I am a postbox anyway. It is a bit extraordinary for October to be so frosty but stranger things have happened.
One of them happened today. I got a publishing deal. I can make it even stranger now. I got a publishing deal not for the book I have been pushing for the past ten months but for one that I never even knew existed. And so I am going to be a bona fide author after all, the title of my oeuvre being Slaughter Is The Best Medicine, an affectionate throw-back to the whole Batman thing and seeing that this book is all about slasher horrors, we are really at home there.
I must admit to feeling part-flabbergasted, part-passer-by in this. I feel as if it hasn’t even happened to me; so much work over one project and then you have the perfect thing right under your nose. I suppose this is the validation I had been striving for for quite some time. It is fine and fair to know that you can do something but there is only so much good writing you can produce in the face of rejection. Eventually, you will feel a reject. No more so at long last. Watch this space for a string of self-promotion, of course.