Dear, demure Rosalind:
My day queen, my sun-down princess, my night star – how I wonder how you are!
I AM GOING TO BE PUBLISHED!
Simply cannot believe
it.
Yes, the phone call that never comes for most mortals (with
literary aspirations) came for me! Are
you happy? I imagine so. Are you smiling at the news? Laughing with
joy? Really, it is enough to make me go
back to church (say a little prayer!), and perhaps to start believing in fate,
and in destiny a la Napoleon!
When the editor – fantastic fellow named Charles (aren’t
they all?!) – relayed the glorious news, I nearly cart-wheeled down the stairs
(my landline is at the top of a small staircase leading to my attic bedroom),
and if I had broken my neck in nine places at least I would have died happily.
Thankfully, I survive, and, I suspect, am soon to thrive!
Monte Carlo here we come! (Do you want to come?).
The advance, admittedly, is a little on the meagre side
(Charles told me this is always the case for a debut author), but the royalty
rate – a whole 7% on net revenues – more than makes up for it!
Next stage for me is to think of names to write a
testimonial for the book. Your
contributions, Rosalind, are more than welcome (so long as you don’t mind me
having executive veto – it will be my name that rises or falls by association
remember). To begin with I’ll approach
Geoffrey Archer, I think, perhaps Ian Rankin too, and someone from outside the
world of books – I do admire that chap off Classic FM, David Mellor.
Once we (Chuck and I) have finalised details of the book launch I shall send
you a golden invitation, with the letters VIP embossed and silver-lined (just
to clarify I mean VIP as in ‘very important person’, not ‘visually impaired…’). As to the venue, what about the Ritz? Or
Brown’s Hotel (used to do splendid afternoon tea)? Or, perhaps a more boozy
affair at The Slug and Lettuce?
Must dash (Fritz is hungry).
Do look forward to any news (whatsoever).
Yours,
… professional writer.
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