Monday, 19 April 2010
Well, in my non-writing life it's been a rather momentous week.
Like, I am officially a Parent now.
Okay, you can pick your jaws back up off the floor! What I mean is, Mr Ashbless and I went to the bank on Friday to ask for a Gurt Big Loan (a nice sort of loan, with which to do lovely things, not a bad we-are-about-to-eat-the-dogs one). The advisor went through our details and asked me what I did for a living.
"I'm a self-employed writer," I said.
So he got his drop-down list onscreen and looked through it, and we could not find a category I would naturally fit in. Clerical? Teaching?
"Are you trying to judge risk?" I asked.
"I'm trying to judge reliability of guaranteed income," said he. It took me some time to stop laughing.
"Uh, no. I've no guaranteed income. You're going to have to work out the loan based on my husband's income only."
"Right," he said; "then in that case I'm going to put you down as this, so that we don't have to fiddle about with questions." And he put me down as PARENT/HOMEMAKER.
Let that be a lesson to you, aspiring writers ;-)
In my writing life ...
I have a whole bunch of short stories out there whining at the doors of various editors to be let in. Three of them have been told "Maybe."
There's a "Maybe - it's a good story but it's really long. Wait till I see what else I'm offered." There's a "Maybe! You've made it through the first round of cuts!" And there's a "Yes! But ... we have to wait for the publisher's final say-so on the lineup."
See? No guarantees.
Now I'd better go walk my three hairy cat-chasing children.