Dug out the Writers and Artists yearbook and randomly selected 7 agents. Bugger it, I’m sending out 7 copies to see what happens… I’m ready. I think.

Bloody expensive this writing lark. Stamps, envelopes… it all costs. But it’s worth the risk.

The first week is hell. After work, I end up doing… uggh.. I can hardly write this… CHORES! Cleaning! My entire flat, something I NEVER do. I’m trying my hardest not to think about… it. You know… the... m… manuscripts. What’s happening to them? Are they being read or being used as coasters? Hmmm… Oh how I wish I could afford another holiday…