Waaahhhh

Level Four Lockdown: Day Sixty-Eight

Mood: Flummoxed

I'm not in a place to write tonight. 

Why?

I'm all in a tizzy, 

See, late, late last night I got an email from one of my Faber tutors.

A publisher wants to have a chat with me about my novel. Was it okay that she passed on my detail to said publisher. 

And I've been all over the place ever since.

Late this afternoon, said publisher did send me an email.

Okay most of me is dancing round the flat scaring the cat. 

But it raises questions for me, like:

• Can I actually finish this?
• Can I actually do this?
• But I can't write - why me? (imposter syndrome - most writers have it)
• But who else is getting a mail like this? 
• How the hell does this happen?
• What the hell would I send her?
• Am I really what this particular publishing house goes after (probably not, but you have to open the conversation)
• Should I pursue a 4.5 day week at work where I can take a day off a fortnight to write (I've gently broached this with my boss)
• Should I hire a jail cell over the summer break where I can write (You can do this - just not in Covid - Melbourne jail has great cells in which you can write. 

So, tomorrow, when I get my head out of the clouds, I'll respond to the publisher.

But for the moment, I'll just bask in the thought  that maybe somebody thinks my work might have some value. 

Today's Song: