Saturday, September 28

Still no sign of the errant rejection (or not) slip. I regularly evaluate this predicament in my mind;

A; the slip could be lost in the post.

B; The agents are deliberating whether to take me on.

Agent X; “I like her style. She’s fresh funky, lets get her a book deal.”

Agent Y; “No, no, no… she’s way too cocky for my liking. No, send it back. Oh and don’t forget, I am the founder/director/proprietor of this literary agency…”

I’ve now decided to swallow what little pride I have left and sign up for a writing class. All the ‘creative writing’ classes clash with work. However, the ‘How to write a novel’ class looks intriguing…

Felt weird ‘going back to school’, but nice. I had my Nike satchel slung over my shoulder, pencil in ear, I really looked the penniless student (not hard). And let me tell you, it felt like being back at Uni, no school. Let’s see, on my left we had the Mr Know it all Annoying bastard; answering the question BEFORE it’s asked, making crap jokes to try and impress the teacher. On my right we had the gorgeous Femme Fatale (who I'm sure will get published on her looks alone) secretly making eyes at the teacher, her biggest fear? Will I chip a nail tonight? And a couple of students with no idea what they were doing there.

More disturbingly, I also noticed a few students had the LOOK of a writer. You know, tweed jacket and specs. Do I look like a writer…? NO CHANCE!