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.

Hate Fate

To love
To love
To love
To hate

To hate
To hate
To love

To love
To love
To hate
Thy Fate

To hate
To hate
To love

Oh, to love, to love, to love, to hate.

So my newly single status, did not last very long.  We were back together within a few days but of course he was angry with me.  In my insecure and anxious scramble for stability, after being chucked, I reached out for two men who I once knew (not in the Thomas Hardy sense).  He went through my messages and saw.  He is filled with fury.

There is little I can do.  What is done is done and I can't change that.  He does not see this way.  All I really want is to be happy together.  He does not see that either.  He thinks (or says he thinks) I want to destroy him.  Little does he know.  It's hard.  Ridiculous really, the pain that two people put each other through.  Day in, day out, month after month, fighting.  We don't need to do it.

"At least, there's passion," someone said.  They are right.  There is passion.  So much passion.  It seeps out even when there is nothing to be passioante about.  A snow ball, building momentum as it tosses and turns down the mountain, only to land and collapse.

Lets just hope tonight he will love me.

The Big Con

For some reason, we in the western world have fallen into a terrible trap.  We believe that we have to go to a concrete block every morning at 9am.  We then sit there all day, in the the clinical lighting, whilst the sun is out.  We agree to being bossed around by people we neither really know or respect.  We sit, staring at these little screens, until our eyes go fuzzy and our hearts grow cold.

We are trained for this from an early age.  At 5 years old, you are already being trained.  "What do you want to be when your older?" People ask you.  I doubt any child says, I want to sit in a concrete block and be bossed around all day.  We have to stop living for the weekend, we have to realise this is our lives.  Now, this minute is part of our lives.  We don't have that many minutes.  Once a minute is gone, it is gone forever.  We will never get it back.

I'm sure there are some, who love working in their concrete box.  Who love being bossed around.  Who love the fact that they get given bits of paper.  Who believe that those pieces of paper, that we refer to as money, is actually worth while.  That it is actually worth the time that we give to it.  The time that we lose.  The time when we could have been with people who we actually care about, who actually mean something to us.

Obviously, we have to work.  Otherwise, we would have no food and if the whole of England suddenly stopped working, there would be no dole, to pay those who don't want to work but there must be another way.....

(to be continued)

Anything can happen when dancing in the Sun

A couple of years ago, I decided to become a volunteer at Sundance Film Festival.  I had aways been very interested in Film and I thought it was the perfect way to meet filmy people and become a star.  I had an incredbile time, went to a million parties and met lots of wannabe film makers but none who were quite eligible to give me my big break!

I had gone to Sundance with a friend, lets call her Alice.  Now, Alice and I had been friends for years, we had been locked behind the wrought iron gates of boarding school together.  Alice was not being her usual self, she was fresh out of rehab but I had seen her sober before and something was different.  She didn't want to come out with me, so I ended up going out with people I had met in the day time at the cinema I was working at. 

One night, I came back to the hotel room that Alice and I were sharing.  She was on the phone, teliing someone she loved them.  This was big news, Alice wasn't the 'I love you' type.  She had millions of crushes, but they were silly and rather strange.  There had never been an 'I love you'.  When she got off the phone, I asked who it had been and she went bright red.  She didn't tell me.

Alice and I were meant to be flying from Utah (where Sundance Film Festival is) to LA for two weeks and then back to England.  Alice was half American and had friends in LA, who we were going to stay with.  The day before our flight, I found out who the 'I love you' had been for.  Alice was in love with a woman, from Georgia, who she had met in rehab.  Rather than fly with me to LA she was flying out to Georgia, to be with her lover.  I was going to be stranded in LA by myself, with no friends and nowhere to stay....I didn't know what to do.......

(to be continued)

Newly single....or am I?

So I am newly single....well we went through the screaming fight at 3 in the morning, the name calling, the bucket of water being thrown over me (whilst I was in bed, dying of the flu) and of course the rant where he named all the girls he was going to sleep with now that I was out of his life.  I then shouted "out".  He refused, so I ended up pretending to call the police.  A little dramatic?  Perhaps, but he started it.

After ignoring each other for a full 3 days (the longest we've ever managed) I got a message saying "I am coming to collect my things tomorrow, make sure your brother is there to let me in."  I happened to be in the car with two of my friends and all of his belongings.  We had eight bin bags of clothes, a mini chest of drawers and a painting.  We trekked to his Mum's house (where he was staying) at 8 in the evening on Sunday night.

In espionage fashion, we dumped all of his belongings on the drive outside his Mum's house and ran to the car.  My phone was ringing.  I didn't pick up.  A message came through again, "I am coming to collect my things tomorrow, OKAY?"

"Look outside," I replied, from the safety of halfway down his street.
"Where?" he asked.
"Your house," I replied.
2 minutes later, my phone flashed again.
"I can't believe you," he texted.

So that was the end of my two year, live-in relationship.