I was so close.

So damn, damn close.

So close I could smell it, breathe it …. believe it.

An unsigned contract from a top publisher in my hot little hand, copy deadline next January, first hardback out 2020. I was researching, writing …. loving it.

And then … it all fell away. Up the ladder, and down that sneaky snake that lurks around square 98 to catch the unwary. Right back to the foothills. Strong temptation to throw the whole damn board across the room and never write again.

There was a third party involved, you see.  They had a contract with the publisher too,  nothing to do with me but if that fell through, the whole deal was off. And, at the eleventh hour, it did. And so it was.

My agent has been brilliant.  The publishers have been lovely. Under no legal obligation to do so, they’ve paid me for the work I’ve done to date. It’s a source of much mirth in my family that the first money I’ve earned from writing …. is to stop writing.  A ‘kill’ fee. Even I can see the irony, the humour in that.

So there we go. Up and down and round and about we go. No one ever said it would be easy. But, now the sting’s subsided and new opportunities are opening up …. oh, the thrill of this totally unpredictable scary, frustrating, maddening, totally exhilarating magical mystery ride …

Back to the laptop.

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