I had some time this morning to reflect on my progress (mostly lack thereof) with my personal projectforty. This has been inspired by my recent attempt to turn this raggedy old blog into some kind of publication. This attempt was, in turn, inspired by the fact that every other 40-something in the country with a blog is getting gazillions of pounds from publishers and other clever folk to publish their (admittedly) more widely consumed webbified musings.
My attempt to turn projectforty into some kind of self help book has made me feel bossy. Who am I to say every thirtyniner should be drinking their 2 litres of water and consuming their 5 a day? There's merit in a quick reminder but does the world really need another nag? Even Gordon's having a go at the nation about wasting food and being queasy over sell by dates.
To cut a long story short I have been emailing a very nice woman who just happens to be an agent. She has patiently been dealing with my amateur attempts at synopsis writing. I last heard from her just before I sent my sample chapter and after a brief email exchange about hits on my blog and my total ignorace of such a phenomenon. Is anyone reading this? Does anyone care?
To write the sample chapter I had to look at my list and if I was sitting a SATS paper in being forty I would be Level 2 (a). I must try harder, particularly as I shall be sitting by a pool in a couple of weeks. If I don't get a move on my feet will look like hooves, I'll have tiger stripe roots and my tummy will perhaps be able to go for a dip independently from the rest of my body.
On a more positive note though - I am working and writing, writing and working. The stuporous misery seems to have passed. I blame my slump, partly, on reading 'A spot of bother' by Mark Haddon. I don't blame the author himself but despite being very funny, beautifully observed and a great read, I think it was one of the most depressing books I've ever read. Middle aged man suspects he has cancer, starts going potty, sees his lovely wife bonking arch enemy from work, goes slightly madder, has several episodes and then kind of just gets over it.
Let that be a lesson to you, my girl, I thought, every night for a fortnight. Better get those socks pulled up.