DJ,

For the past months, years, days, hours and seconds, I’ve been making a promise to myself.  Today I’ll start the next book I say to my brain. Yet curiously, despite the fact that an outline has been done and the story mapped out.  I find myself staring at a blank piece of paper everyday, it mocks my intent.  It screams ‘fill me with words that mean something.’  Each day I make a mental list:
1. Go to gym
2. Follow up calls for Imagine This (whatever press or media coverage I can get)
3. Start 2nd book.

If I’m not properly awake by 7am, then Item number 1. goes out the window.  My excuse is traffic, yes I could walk to the gym, but why would I if I can drive there.  It means I don’t have use the communal showers and can jump in my car with my smelly sweaty self. 

Now by the time I’ve roused myself and had breakfast and sat in front of the laptop to do item 2. I’m already finding excuses why I can’t possibly start item 3.  So my day goes, phoning Waterstones stores and begging them to take Imagine This, calling libraries and begging to do an Author reading, begging media bigwigs to give me the time of day.  Begging, begging, begging.  

After a particularly difficult call to Waterstones store in High Street Ken, I actually broke down and had a little moment.  Nothing major, no waterworks, but I was filled with despair.  I thought about the long road ahead and it frightened me, After the many knocks I’d already received I thought my skin was of rhinoceros standard.  How wrong was I, sometimes I do wish I could be brash and forward and not feel every sneer and smirk that I encounter.  But then I guess, I wouldn’t be me.  The truth though, is that so many times I’ve wanted to give up, with each hurdle I say this is it, my friends think I’m strong, I can’t tell them my fears, so instead I smile as I’m congratulated on my mini successes.  My mouth reaches upwards to meet eyes that have forgotten how to sparkle.

I try very hard not to let it affect me, but I have to admit to myself that with every rejection, hope becomes vapour and the mist clouds my brain, it clouds my judgement, it clouds my objectivity.

I do sometimes wonder if I’m using item 2. to stop me from item 3. especially after I told myself I was giving up on trying to get Imagine This into stores. I can’t help it though, especially with all those boxes under my bed, I want the space back. Not that there was anything there before the books got dumped.

So now I find myself making the same promise again, I will start item 3. tomorrow. 🙂