So another door closes, as the longlist for the Chicken House competition was announced last week and I wasn’t on it. I didn’t expect to be, of course, but while there’s silence, there’s hope. And now I am looking for the open window, because if you don’t keep hoping, keep trying, what’s the point?
Having spent the holiday knocked out with Flu, struggling to be up for the children for our annual caravan holiday on the East Coast, the last thing I feel like doing now is fighting. But the more books I write, the more I can believe I am an author. I just need to find the outlet.
My latest plan (crazy scheme?) is to do an editing and proofreading course. If I can make some money perhaps I can afford an illustrator. With decent pictures, I would be much happier self-publishing my children’s books. Like I say, more a crazy scheme than a plan, but if nothing else I’ll get better at editing my own books.
In the mean time, the kids are at sports camp for two days, so I can try and find order in a house full of builders, start conquering the feral ironing, and get myself better for the fight. Pass the spinnach.
Somewhere, there’s a window open, waiting for me to squeeze through and find my way forward. Let’s hope it’s not raining out there.