Only a little while now until my next self-imposed deadline. Another book must unleash itself from my brain by Valentine's Day. Good old Valentine, saint of my first-draft deadlines.
It is tougher this year. For one thing, hypothermia is a constant threat to my continued existence and, to be honest, that is annoying enough to require an entirely new swear word. For another thing, there is so much more to do. I wished and worked for this 'platform' thing and envisioned about 800 to 1000 followers by this point, but it's somewhere between 4,000 and 5,000 now! I can't organise a dinner party for four people, how the heck am I supposed to entertain that number? Of course, much of it is Stephen Fry's fault and I will have stern words when next we meet. He just threw followers at me with no thought for the work load at this end. Did he ask if I had food and beds for that number? No. The manners on that man. Honestly!
It turns out that this 'platform' thing is just a bunch of readers, so I have thousands of people to talk books with. It's like the biggest book group imaginable. This is all fine and large but I like talking books and all things literary so I never leave. It is catnip to the inner Word Nerd. Twitter's the worst: within minutes you can hear about a book, speak to the writer, buy it and congratulate the publisher. Is wordy wonderland. Fortunately, that wordy wonderland has put me in touch with some agents and publishers who've asked for my work. The last month in particular has been crazy. I can almost smell the publishing deal!
Right, well, I'm off now. Christmas to have.
Thanks to everyone who's read my diary in the last few months. If you pop across to my site, rebeccawoodhead.com you can hear my radio debut. If you want to help me to get published (such a fabulous Christmas gift) it will cost you nothing and require only a couple of clicks - http://tiny.cc/PublishRebecca
Thank you and Merry Christmas xxx