My agent emailed to tell me that the publisher who is still hanging onto Perfect Lives is considering starting a new list with ten books, one of which will be mine. The decision will be made any day now. Ooh, the suspense!
Meanwhile, I have another publisher interested in reissuing the revamped version of my first ever novel, a sexy romp called Sweet Temptation which I wrote under the pen-name of Caroline Standish, as an e-book. No advance but a good royalty. I've mentioned another idea of mine, too and she's asked for sample chapters so I need to get scribbling.
I am also polishing up a synopsis for my agent. She represents children's books only, which is why I am going it alone with the adult stuff. She likes the title and the general idea, so that's a good start.
Off to north London tomorrow to view some more flats. I don't have high hopes, as one looks a bit boring and the other a bit small, but... you never know, do you?
Looking back over my posts, it seems that I whinge far too much. But I'm afraid I'm about to have another one. A BIG one. For I have been done over, robbed, mistreated, right royally shafted. I can't think of another way to put it.
It's all about the bloody house next door. When our neighbour told me not to rely on him buying it off me (which was the only reason I was buying it in the first place, to secure it for him until his money came through), I panicked at the thought of getting stuck with a house that needed tons of work and potentially having to sell at a price that wouldn't cover my buying costs. So I backed out and copped a fee of nearly £1000 from the solicitors for the work they had done so far.
I have spend the last week flat-sitting for a friend. Perfect peace and relaxation in N. London, a chance to lick my wounds and make new plans, confident I had made the right decision. But while my back was turned, machinations were afoot. The neighbour spoke to his bank and his solicitor and decided to put in a direct offer on the house for less than he would have had to pay me, as 'middleman', but more than I had offered for it. So I have lost a large amount of money, my feelings as well as my pocket are very hurt and I am furious with Mr G who, I feel, could have supported me; as he is pally with the neighbour, surely he could have found out his true intentions. Or maybe he knew them and wasn't going to tell me.
On the one hand, Mr G has been saying that the house purchase is 'none of his business', yet on the other, he has already told the neighbour that he may as well buy the searches I have already paid for, in order to speed up the buying process. I feel a lot has gone on behind my back and nobody has been on my side. That's what hurts. Mr G refuses to discuss it and I am left with a large hole in the wallet. It seems that the last sixteen years with Mr G haven't counted for very much and in reality, I am on my own and probably have been all along. Time to move on?