This morning, I woke up and thought that it was time to stop dreaming.
I couldn’t remember my dream. All I could remember was the cold creeping through my system, making me cough and setting off depth-charges in my frontal-cortex. I made my still sleeping missus a cup of tea and returned to the computer to do something about life.
Send a bloody manuscript off, my bloody self was telling my bleeding self.
I scoured and scoured and scoured and then thought that one of my manuscripts (love the serious, all-important sound of that) should travel to a potential publisher. It was going to be The Piper or one of The Flood novels. In the end, it was Read After Burnout, Adventures In Everyday Madness.
Guess what? I ask that as if you really want to give a guess.
Anyway, said publisher got back to me rather sharply and said that they liked the quality of my writing and that my manuscript was impressive.