An agent came a-calling
Guilty as charged. Months have flown by with no diary update. I am truly sorry. I never meant to be such a lazy sod, it just happened.
Since last I wrote, I’ve signed an agreement with Annette Green Authors’ Agents to represent my work and finished the sixth draft of ‘The Armchair Bride’, taking into account some great feedback and suggestions from Mark (Mr. Fanning), Emma (the character who never was) and Annette herself.
The other night I accompanied Mr. Fanning to a concert by Rufus Wainwright. I’ve never been his biggest fan, but on the whole, I find his stuff enjoyable, so it wasn’t anything like an official chore, attracting a payback clause.
It was at the Heineken Music Hall, a nice enough though functional building on the outskirts of Amsterdam, but blessed with chairs that were surely rejected from hell’s waiting room. The sort of thing they used to have in driving test centres before some European directive outlawed their use as inhumane.
The audience was mostly made up of sensible looking souls: librarians and people who usually spent time in sheds building Airfix models, you get the picture. Throughout the show though I was struck by just how many people seemed incapable of staying in their seats – vanishing off to get drinks or chat on mobile phones. Why pay all that money and then treat the place like a bar?
With the exception of two songs early in the set that gave a whole new meaning to the word ‘dirge’, it was a great concert and I’d recommend it to anyone. We skipped the ‘spectacular after show party’ and went home to finish the take-away pizza that we’d ordered to save us having to cook before leaving for the show. It had arrived just minutes before we left. Unlike most foods, Pizza is never quite as good reheated.
On the writing front, I’m still sitting with sundry body parts crossed. Eight UK publishers have editors who’ve asked to see my work. Annette has sent the manuscripts out and now we’re waiting to see if anyone bites or likes what they read enough to consider taking it further,
I’ve finally worked out what I want to do with my next novel. The characters are now clear, the themes have changed. It looks like being considerably darker than I’d first thought, but I hope people will like it. Although some of the topics touched upon are anything but laughing matters, I think I’ll be able to keep the outlook of the main characters upbeat enough to make it work. More as and when I think it’s ready for a public flogging.