The Writing Life
This has been a roller-coaster of a week. After nearly a month of waiting outside the Principal’s office (or as we say in the business, waiting for reactions to first draft) I heard first from my agent who, rather seriously, didn’t ‘get’ the book at all and predicted a considerable rewrite. Twenty four miserable hours later my editor’s email dropped into my Inbox. ‘Well, Laurie Graham,’ I thought, ‘Here we go. They’ve finally twigged that you can’t write. And so you face the final curtain.
But no! My editor loves it. LOVES IT! So, as my agent just sheepishly conceded, that told him. Of course he may be right. When the critics pan me or ignore me he may yet get to say, ‘told you so.’ But for now, for five minutes, my parade is rain-proofed.
I read somewhere recently that becoming a writer is the most frequent, unfulfilled ambition of almost everyone in the universe. Funny that. I dream of becoming a Kept Woman. Preferably somewhere with an idyllic climate.
Oh, good news! Writing is subjective. Isn’t that what they always tell us as the rejections come rolling in?!