Wednesday, July 19, 2006
So I left for work with only my shirt on and two buttons open at the top. It was nice to feel so cool and fresh. Laura thought I was mad leaving the house like that, but I promised her it wouldn't stay this cool and the heat was on its way. By the time I got to the office, the sun was breaking through and the mist dissipating to make way for the haze.
The B&B project is a goer. The owner is slightly concerned that she might not be able to sell any books and is worried she might let me down. Not at all! I think even a small number of books made available could help me start to make approaches to other such businesses in and around Edinburgh. The more outlets, the more sale potential. Without potential, then the figures will be zero.
I emailed her back with my plan of, say, five books to begin with. I'll send up a small advert to sit on top of the books with the price etc. and some advertising cards/leaflets. Could be an interesting development this. Now all I need to do is put together my new leaflets for this year's Fringe Festival.
I prepared and sent off the partial request to the agent interested in Hunting Jack. Wouldn't it be awesome if - hold on Chas - no point in getting too excited just yet.
On reading the letter from the small publisher about Stella in more detail, however, I began to grow suspicious that all may not be what it seems. After consulting some experienced writing friends, I have decided I won't be following this offer up. I can't expand just now on this for obvious reasons, but it has been noted as a future topic of discussion. In short, this publisher is not one I shall be working with in the near future.
By lunchtime it was roasting but not quite as hot as the last couple of days. In fact, it never did get as hot in Edinburgh as was predicted, although the rest of the country did break records in parts. London reached 36.5 deg's, for instance.
When me and Ian left the snooker hall at about 11.30, the haar had rolled in and smothered the city in a damp cloak of mist. It was really quite spooky, like what you might imagine when reading a Sherlock Homes tale.
Speakling of snooker, I really couldn't be arsed with it tonight. Not only were we the only ones in the building (other than the staff), with most sensible people out enjoying the lovely evening in their back gardens with a G&T and low music in the background. But with my impending holiday coupled with the immediacy of the Fringe Festival, there is a lot going on in my head that I need to organise. When it all starts spinning like this I get frustrated at being unable to work on my plan. When that happens, I get ratty. And I don't want to get ratty at my FIL. It's just not the done thing.
It's not that I don't enjoy snooker, but the day will come when my commitment to writing will be more in demand, maybe by an agent or appearances on Parky, and I'll have to make more time available to moving over the border from 9 to 5 to a writing life.