Fairy Dust in the Air
Picture the scene: my lovely writer friend, Jared, who has written a fantastic thriller, writes to say that he is a hair’s (he hasn’t got much to spare) breath away from hooking himself an agent. I read the agent’s letter and a transcript of the phone call. Trust me, it sounds like she will be paying HIM.
Jared’s niece died last week, unexpectedly, aged only 29. Jared has been holding the family together ever since. Yesterday he told me he was thankful the funeral was now over and everybody could think about moving forward again.
I think his niece is smiling and sprinkling well-earned fairy dust over him.
Then I click on my emails to see that the Brit Writers’ Awards Unpublished 2010 people have very kindly written to me to say that I am through to the second round of the competition. Unbelievably, Glass Houses gets to fight another day. I have no idea how many other entries are still jostling for position with Glass Houses. I’d rather not know for now (which is good as it’s impossible to find out, believe me, I’ve tried). I am simply happy to be in this state of shock, happy shock, wondering if deep down, I still believe in fairies.
Then I click on my emails to see that the Brit Writers’ Awards Unpublished 2010 people have very kindly written to me to say that I am through to the second round of the competition. Unbelievably, Glass Houses gets to fight another day. I have no idea how many other entries are still jostling for position with Glass Houses. I’d rather not know for now (which is good as it’s impossible to find out, believe me, I’ve tried). I am simply happy to be in this state of shock, happy shock, wondering if deep down, I still believe in fairies.
