My car radio does a funny thing. I use one of those adapters you plug into your iPod or iPhone and it plays your music through the radio and it's great. I don't to listen to Auto Glass adverts any more. Happy days.
However, it has a mind of its own. Sometimes when it's in the middle of a song, the radio will burst through for a few seconds before my song carries on playing. It was amusing the first few times but now it's just getting silly.
Case in point - I was driving to see my family and some friends in my home town at the weekend, listening to some Deep Purple when Lynyrd Skynyrd's Sweet Home Alabama blasted through. I took one look at my radio and curled my top lip in disgust. "I don't think so," I muttered to myself.
It may be where I grew up but 'home sweet home' it ain't. In fact, I couldn't get out of there quick enough when the time came. Not sure what makes people like me so flighty but I suppose that's just how it is sometimes.
It got me thinking about home and whether, if you leave the place you grew up, you'll ever feel 'at home' again. I live in Liverpool now and must say, feel a little bit like I'm in limbo. Well, to be more accurate, Dos and I are in purgatory at the moment. He moves out next week and so we're slowly but surely starting to pack all of his things away and the flat is starting to look like a war zone.
Aside from literally living in no man's land at home, I'm also facing a manager at work who doesn't seem to be able to make his mind up as to whether I'm a 'battery hen' (his words) or a serious professional. I shouldn't blast him though - most days I haven't got a clue either. So, as I swing from monkey-girl to decision-maker in work, let's turn our attention to my book.
My whole reason to exist at the minute. It certainly feels that way anyway.
I've got my manuscripts waiting to be posted while I wait for payday to be able to afford the astronomical postage prices and I'm at a bit of a loss of what to do. Blame it on the fallout going on around me but I really don't know what the next step is.
Do I hammer the phones of literary agents to see if they'd be interested? Or do I just post a load out and then sit with my fingers crossed for eight weeks?
I just don't know.
And I'm bloody tired of thinking about it. I'm mentally preparing myself for rejection and it's making me feel drained already. Silly when I haven't even sent them away yet.
On a lighter note, you may recall I have my three readers of the book - Uno, Dos, Tres (seriously, no idea why I used Spanish numbers - completely random). Well I now have a Cuatro. A new person to bug - lucky them! You know who you are...what are you doing reading this? Get bloody going on the book!
I've also been reading the book out loud as a way of getting a different perspective and get some feedback from anti-reader Dos, who I need to verify the music tech-y parts of the book. It's been really therapeutic and something nice to look forward to after work. It may make me come across as more clinically insane than usual (seriously Dos, lucky escape) but I kinda love it.
And who knows, I might be doing that in front of a bunch of people one day when the book becomes a success. (I just winced writing 'when' rather than 'if' but I'm trying to think positively)
I'll keep plodding along in limboland for the next couple of weeks while I prepare myself to line up at the start line of the next big race. I'm just feeling a bit too restless to stand still at the start gate at the minute but I'm sure everything will start to feel settled soon enough. Until then there's always Jack Daniels and Planet Rock.
Thanks for reading,