Lent

Actually, that's just a title.   Why I am not writing today would be a better title.   I managed to write 530 words of Conscience yesterday - and maybe I'll do something tonight, but today has been: shopping, take N for blood test, go to bank, post office and building society and paying bills.  Followed by unpacking shopping, dealing with random work and Tunnel related emails (explanation of the latter will no doubt appear in due course).  Then suddennly it was time to cook supper, tidy dining room for festival meeting in a couple of hours, and a long call from Rob P - about doing a performance here in a few weeks... and remembering I ought to do other things that I haven't done.   But I did post everything (except the MS to next agent on list).

Why does every single agent want something slightly different? This one wants a short letter and a CV... fine, just if there was a National Standard: letter, synopsis and 3 chapters then it would be a lot easier - sort out the agents who want 50 pages ( my 3 chapters are 49 pages...) or 10 pages, and so on.  The CV is a new one, a great opportunity for creativity! Actually my career is so interesting that no creativity is required to do it justice.  Who else has sold theatre tickets to James Mason, taught Pavarotti's daughter English, argued with Sir John Nott, been sacked from a merchant bank and .... ?

Even my retirement during the full-on motherhood period has not been without interest: flying to Ireland to meet Jeremy Irons, having a book launch and dealing with accompanying meeja storm.  And some of the archaeological adventures with Mark have been fun.   So why does it seem a bit dull at the moment?  I've got friends, I go out, I meet interesting people (sometimes), I network - just that feeling that there's a me somewhere who is getting ignored.  I know exactly what it is - and it's partly my own fault that it's being ignored, and I am not writing about it here.   I could of course turn to Cathexis... the great epic of my inner life. But I am frightened of reading Cathexis again - it's too confusing and disturbing.  I suppose there are a lot of novels about people who believe they are perfectly sane when everyone else recognises they are in the grip of a delusion, just haven't read any of them.  But it's an idea - turn Cathexis into something... there's some good writing, a bit of the old cut and paste....

Time to put on the spuds for supper.