I heard from the publisher at last. Of all my ideas, the one they like best is the complete book I sent them, which I wrote a few years ago and stars three young women in their twenties and thirties. They want the ages changed, the locations changed and lots more sex put in, and I have a deadline of 3rd September. That's two weeks away. If I succeed and they decide to go ahead with the book, there is the possibility of a series.
I thought Mr Grumpy might be pleased for me. After all, my writing career has been in the doldrums for the last seven years. Ever since I moved into his house 'temporarily' and he had his two strokes. We writers don't ask for much. Just peace and quiet, and to be left alone while we're working. But is he prepared to give it to me? Is he hell! He has commandeered the only quiet room in the house for his own office, which he sits in downloading movies and pieces of software. He keeps the front door on the latch, which terrifies me, and his loud, shouty friends barge in and out - and I am working in my bedroom right next to the front door, with traffic roaring by.
Now I am under this terrible time pressure, I find myself tense and in tears. I asked him if he could possibly postpone the party he is planning just for a week, in order that I may have that weekend to work, and he went mad. "So you're asking me to put my whole life on hold, are you?" he railed, then I got the 'it's my house and I'll do what I want in it' tirade.
I've been offered a flat to rent for a fortnight, but it has no internet access and my publisher wants us to bat chapters back and forth, which I can't do if I have to find an internet cafe each time. Also, without a car, I can't transport my desktop computer with the big screen, that I need for my appalling eyesight. Wish I could persuade Mr G to go away for a fortnight, but there's no chance of that. Oh, and I don't have a smart phone with internet on it. Though I don't think I could send whole book chapters on that.
My head is in my hands... and so is my writing career.
P.S. 9 fleas were in the water dish on the bedroom floor this morning. Bloody useless flea-bombs!
Pup On My Pillow!
4 days ago