A daily or perhaps more irregular delve into the life and minds of Truman; that's me and I have something to say on everything and everyone. I know for a fact you'll want to not miss out. All of your friends will be talking about me so get in on the action. You know you want to.

Thursday, May 25, 2006

New angle of dangle

My angle of dangle has changed significantly. The novelistic carrot is now in front of the noses of 37 different literary agents - well, at least it will be once Postworker Androgeny get its shit together.

You see, I read this article online written by a guy at Bloomsbury - he nearly has his non-fiction piece publsihed and if he can get that turgid overpaid crud in front of publishers then HALF LIVED is gonna fly like a hyperactive migratory goose. Anyhoo...he could not be arsed with the whole Chinese water torture approach to getting an agent, sending oput reams of paper, waiting 8 weeks, getting rejected by someone's assistant, and on, and on, and on. He took the blanket approach, contacting at once everyone he thought might be interested in representing him. That's what I have done.

It is only a matter of time now.

So I toddled off to the postbox - 200 metres each way, max. Off I went on an azure late spring morn, past the unemployably fat, the stupidly tracksuited. There was I, spanish sunglasses, gravy-stained Texas tee, stylish jogging pants and a classy pair of Gola. my hair slick with two days of natural oils, side-parted and unkempt: a few whispers, imagined and real were heard, perhaps only by me. I even crossed the busy road before the pedestrian crossing and only did one four-count.

Relative liberty.

A new angle.

Friday, May 05, 2006

No fire in the hole

I flushed out the fox in hole - or rather they fessed under little or no examination. All rather disappointing really; a definite whimper-not-bang situation. Who it is and why they did it is not relevant - though it still slightly bemuses me, both in motive and the poorness of execution. It is enough to know that they will not be back.

I should have been cracking on with flogging the novel but that has had to hit the backburner...in fact I think I might have turned of the gas. It is there, sitting, ever evident, but i have been frying the cashfish, flogging my creative wares on the freelance circuit and making pretty good too. So after next week, when I have nother cashfish deadline, I will be back on the hawking trail...not stalking a spaz genius with a robot voice. I will be doing the agent thing.

Which reminds me to remind you that I have had jack shit for an age in respect of HALF LIVED on this blog from agents, publishers, groupies or wannabies.

Get your fucking shit together; get mesquite; get charcoal briquettes; get propane; get what-the-fuck-ever is your combustible of choice and let's get some fire in this hole.

You know you want to.