Just heard from my agent. Apparently no publishers at the London Book Fair are interested in my book because it's been too long since I was last published. But the reason for that is that he didn't like my last book. Apparently they only want authors who are young, pretty and marketable. It's like the old casting couch routine. If you're not gorgeous, or famous, but can write, you can't get published. If you're gorgeous, or famous, but can't write, you can get published. It's totally crazy and not fair.
I have loved writing this book but I don't see any point in finishing it now as all my enthusiasm has gone. The wind has been taken out of my writing sails. I expect the next thing I shall hear is that my agent is dropping me. It's sad, because writing is what I have done ever since I was in my twenties - but back then, there were few opportunities for young writers and all the popular and respected ones were the age I am now. It feels like I was born at just the wrong time. All that's left is for me to become an Angry Old Woman. Perhaps I should start the AOP Party - AngryOld People - and lobby Parliament for increased pensions and a vastly reduced Council Tax (or none at all if you're earning £10K or less, which I shall certainly be doing in a couple of years' time. Then someone would want to publish my outpourings, once I'd featured in enough demos and biffed a few MPs with my zimmer frame. Maybe...
10 hours ago