Friday, 19 August 2011

Here we go....

They're here!

Only the m*ther f*cking manuscripts! Ten of the bad boys! Ten!!!!!

Okay, okay, enough of the exclamation points, you get the picture.

There's no more editing to be done now. Any amends I want to make or things I want to add.....well, it's too damn late. I've saved a copy for myself and keep eyeing it while it's sat on the arm of the sofa. Aside from the fact I've read the bloody thing about a hundred times and am now getting fed up with watching my heroine make the same cock-ups over and over again (seriously love, common sense - look it up), there's absolutely nothing I can do to change it.

In the Metallica movie Some Kind of Monster, Lars is admiring some $1m dollar painting and musing about when the artist is 'done'. When does he decide to stop painting? I thought it was a really interesting point and I found myself wondering whether you're ever really done with a painting, or a song, or a book....


Well Lars, I can't speak for the artist who painted that pretty picture but I certainly know I'm done when I see a box full of manuscripts sat in the middle of the room. The red pen is definitely having a rest for a while.

I've now got to get in contact with literary agents and get the thing sent off in the hope of getting representation. Anyone looking to try and flog a book about a girl going on the road with a rock band to publishers? Anyone?

I should be really excited at this point but now I'm scared. There's really no excuse not to get posting it off and then facing that agonising wait for a response. I've just got to find some distractions to keep me from losing my mind during those weeks (6-8 apparently) where agents are having a read of the manuscript.

Maybe I'll become a philosopher like Lars and ponder over questions that are impossible to answer, such as...

Why do Scouse women go out in public in pajamas and rollers?

Why does my manager say the words "It's not a loaded question but..." and then proceed to ask me a question that hangs heavy around my neck?

How come Jurassic Park isn't real? And if it was, would I be able to trade my Tesco Clubcard points for a ticket?

And while we're on the subject of Tesco, what's the deal with them getting the Xmas shit on the shelves in frigging August? (Seriously, there should be a law against this)

Is that boyband, The Wanted, the ugliest bunch of man-boys in the world?

Is Dave Grohl the nicest man in rock?

Are Iron Maiden fans the friendliest people you'll ever meet?

Does anyone still give a toss about the X Factor? (If you do, I want to know why. I'm genuinely interested)

Why is Ami James so hot? And why isn't he sat here, spending Friday night with me? I'd make enchiladas and everything.

Yeah, I reckon those should keep me going for a while....

*Twiddles thumbs*

My copy of the manuscript is still looking at me.

Maybe I'll just read a couple of chapters....just to pass the time, you understand...

Happy Friday ;-)



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