NaNoWriMo and agents

So I still have had no news from the agent I want!  However NaNoWriMo starts today so I just have to forget about it for the time being.  Today was also the deadline to hand in the second draft of my first novel to my fake agent.  The story of my fake agent is rather peculiar (as is her title).  I was led to believe she was a real agent but then I found out in fact she was just an intern at an agency.  That agency has now let her go and she has not even told me.  So for some reason I am still sending her my work, even though she is a fake agent, who no longer even has a job as an intern.  However I would rather have a fake agent then no agent, so it will do for now.  Oh, I forgot to say...not only is she a fake agent, she also has asked me to sign a contract which gives her 20% of all my media earnings forever!  Obviously I haven't signed it but my situation is a little bit troubling!

Still no news

Still no news on the agent!  I am now pretty sure that she doesn't want me :-( I am quite sad about it but what is meant to be will be. 

My Dad was havign a go at me this weekend about the fact that I spend my mornings working in a "dead end job" and spend the aternoons writing books.  He thinks that writing should be a hobby, not  a career.  What he doesn't realise, is I have watched his suffering in the City for my whole life, totally miserable and I don't want to end up like him. 

I need writing to work for me, it's the one thing I love.

My wrinkles

I stopped smoking 25 days ago (apart from a one day blip - where I had 5 cigarettes).  I was a twenty a day smoker.  I gave up, as I was bored of giving away £200 a month, to something which both kills you and makes you ugly.  I also didn't like the horrible taste in my throat when I woke up, or, the fact that I felt like a leper and some evil human for smoking around non-smokers.  To be honest, there were a million reasons but that is not what I am supposed to be writing about. 

This morning, I went into the bathroom and rather than seeing some new rediscovered beauty (that I had previously lost, whilst drifting through a thick cloud of smoke) I saw WRINKLES and not just one, FOUR.  All over my forehead.  I AM TWENTY FOUR.  How can this be happening?  I thought you had to be at least thirty to even have the smallest wrinkle and I have four!

(To be continued....)

Fear of Rejection

So.....  I have fear/excitement bubbling inside me this morning.  As you know if you have previously read any of my blog I have written a book.  I am meant to be finding out this week, if an agent likes my book.  I don't know why I am resting everything on this one agent.  As I could just send out lots of manuscripts and apply for more.  Yet for some reason, I really want this agent.  (It may well just be laziness).  I am meant to be finding out this week, whether it is a yes or no and I am terrified!

I know the answer will probably be no but I would just be so happy if it was a yes!  I had a dream last night again (sorry i am always boring everyone with my dreams).  In my dream, I got an email from the agent and she said she would love to work with me...blah, blah and I put my arms in the air and went "Yesssss", like a child and then I rang up pretty much everyone I know and everyone shouted, "Yessssss."  Then I woke up and realised it had never happened.  So now, I am sitting here terrified that I used all my good luck in that dream and in fact now it is going to be a "Noooooooo" (poke lip out and look sad). 

I am worried.

The Heroine

He sold his life

And joined with another.

Whom he thought could be his brother

But though this union appeared ideal

This brother stole his life from he.

He wrapped him up

In blankets so warm

And blocked him away from the eternal storm

He told sweet tales

And rocked him to sleep

But his brother expected his life he could keep.

Little did he know

When he wanted to wake

That the whole world 

And Universe thus would shake

His life so blanketed, calm and warm

Would erupt into worse than the eternal storm.

He would sit there shaking

Cold and alone

With no friends left to pick up the phone.

Vomit emerging from within his throat

His so called brother begins to gloat

"This is what happens, if you don't want me

So much pain, you can barely see,

Oh boy don't you realise you sold your soul

And I will have it for eternity

Go cut me out see how you survive

All youre feelings are gone

You don't have any pride

You'll miss my pleasant company

And in everyone you'll meet

You'll try and find me"

The boy withdrew from all he knew

The brother who took him from the cold and snow

He blocked his brother from his mind

Whilst doing this he became unkind

His brother, he had been right

After living in the ecstacy of the night

No human maid could ever compare

To the pleasure felt whilst his brother was there.

Thus his life

Then was scarred

This so called brother

Had been dark

He'd seen a boy 

So young and weak

And preyed upon him 

In his sleep

Imprisoned him in a heroin cell

He stole his youth

And introduced hell.

The Monkey and the Thief

I know that dreams are the most boring thing to talk about and one must never do such a thing, especially not on a blog.  Yet my dream last night was particularly weird and I want to write it down to see if it has any relevance in the upcoming weeks.

Last night, I dreamt I was in a desert.  I had just won some sort of competition with two men.  The competition was a great ordeal and I felt like we had bonded over the incident.  I was more relaxed around one of the men than the other.  The man I trusted wanted to take a photograph of us.  The untrustworthy man put is arm around me and as he withdrew I felt my ahndbag had got lighter, my phone and my wallet had gone from my handbag.  I didn't say anything.  Instead, I went and stood next to him again and retrieved my belongings from his pockets.  I confronted him and the trustworthy man got angry with him.  The untrustworthy man, tried to attack me.  I ran.  I soon came across a group of rather ragged, desert children.  They chased after me as well.  I was running down hill in the sand.  There was another sand dune on the other side and I saw a long haired golden monkey running towards me.  "The monkey can help, the monkey can help" I thought, and I woke up.

Strange isn't it?  Interpretations are welcome!

Books and relationships, how remarkably similar they are!

I used to write endlessly about how I could never write a book.  How I don't have the patience, or the time.....etc.  However, now that I have written my first book, it is like I am on fire.  All I can think about is writing the second book, the third book....

I am on the 3rd draft of my first book, I am not a fan of the editing process. I find it boring and tedious but I am currently planning my second book which is incredibly exciting.

The funny thing about writing books, is you fall in love mulitple times, throughout the journey.  It is so similar to a relationship, you love, you hate, you fight, you laugh, you cry.  Like a relationship, all those emotions are fine, good even, it shows there is passion.  The one thing you must be wary of in every relationship, whether it be with a book or a lover, is indifference.  Luckily, I have not experienced that yet.