It’s done, it’s gone, I have sent it away. Having edited and edited, trimmed, corrected, re-written and tweaked I finally put Timesmudger to one side. The hidden circle of Dante’s Inferno then revealed itself in the form of the synopsis. Never has a single word put more dread in my heart since the school nurse said “Next!”and I got a very painful BCG injection. Various dreadful attempts littered the kitchen table, a handful of monkeys could have made a better attempt, let alone the infinite number that apparently can write the entire Shakespearian canon. Rescue came in the form of the Crabbit Old Bat (see Miracle Cure post below) and after some serious keyboard bashing and excellent criticism from Sandie I had something I was happy with. (I can only hope that Stephanie Thwaites at Curtis Brown feels the same way.)
The covering letter was a breeze after that, particularly since I don’t have a glowing publication history behind me to list.
Then, finally I hit the submit button. I’ve done it before, but last time I was a naive ingenue. I sent out what can only be described as a literary dog poo. This time I am older, wiser and have taken a shed load of criticism on board. But is it enough?