I am famous. I am Big in Bantry. I was in a bookshop window for nearly a whole five days, until I got all sold. All twenty copies, or something, which my batty writer says is lovely, and I say there's a long way to go before she's Dan Brown.
He sells squillions of copies of his books, and is very rich.
But.
I have something he doesn't. I have a pink jumper.
(Oh. And the week was great, and the bookshop was full for my batty writer to read out of moi, and I saw three ladies crying afterwards. I hope that wasn't cos I am bad...and I got a second bit read on Friday night at the bedtime reading. Only that was the one about swapping skin with a drug addict. I don't like that one, myself. )
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3 comments:
Hello, book. I'm very excited. You dropped onto my doormat this morning. I haven't dared to open you yet since there's work to be done and I'll lose all motivation to do it if I start thumbing. However, my four year old is already convinced the book is about her. She spotted the little girl on the cover just now and gasped: "Daddy, it's me." I said I thought it might be someone else. "But she's wearing my tights," she said. I hope to hear you being read in Stoke Newington this evening - that is if the previously mentioned little girl and her brother can be persuaded to bed promptly. M.
It was a bit of a squeeze getting through your letterbox. I have asked my friends to come round tomorrow and make it bigger. I hope they do it properly. Mr Parkes the Headmaster hasn't noticed the woodwork kit has gone missing yet, but Keith says hes old enough to use a saw. Keith says at six and a half you can do anything in the world, including letterboxes.
My batty writer is not wearing a jumper tonight because she says its too hot. I say its because she got dressed up this morning to go to something posh... at somewhere called BAFTA. Where they had bacon butties and someone called Clare Wigfall won £15,000 for a short story.
cool, huh?
Hello again, book. My guess is you're tucked up snug in your batty writer's bag right now, curry aromas wafting over you [do books smell? - I know they smell, but do they smell?], but I just wanted to say she did you proud this evening. I thoroughly enjoyed the reading and she wrote ever so neatly in you.
I'll collate a few wordy offerings and forward them to her at the weekend.
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