The life of a writer is always exciting and full of suspense. Last week I received a Royalty Cheque in the mail. With eager little fingers I ripped open the envelope, unfolded the cheque within and looked in the right hand box. One hundred and twenty five smackeroos. I guess it hasn't been a big year for those two particular books. No, I will not be giving up my day job to spend the rest of my life writing or travelling around the world promoting my works, but I was able to buy a few more groceries.
Another piece of good news is that I am on the verge of signing a book contract. The story in question was actually published a few years ago in a wonderful children's magazine (I think that looks a bit ambiguous, doesn't it? Is it the children or the magazine who are wonderful? You decide.) A publisher wants to transform the story into a picture book, after I've lengthened the narrative and made a few changes. Sounds good to me. But don't think I've abandoned my smuggler story or my highwayman tale. They are still there lurking about on my desk and in my computer.
I am also still in the process of moving house. This is a mammoth task. I throw out 'stuff' but more 'stuff' falls out of drawers and cupboards. I've been watching a tv reality show about people who hoard and collect everything they can find. I do this in order to frighten myself into not becoming one of those people.
On the other hand, like everything else, it could very well be material for a story, couldn't it?