Well, I've decided to have some time off - other than for sleeping. My work; creative response resources to help young people express difficulties and activities to help carers provide enriched care for our elderly and people with dementia is now edited, printed, packed and ready to go.
So … I'm taking a holiday - not to a sunny island, snowy mountain tops or lazing on a beach lounger [although they do sound appealing right now] - I'll be dragging my children's stories kicking and screaming from the bottom drawer[s] of the filing cabinet[s] and e d i t i n g them at last!
A lovely literary agent has expressed a wish to read some ghost stories over the Christmas Holidays ~ and guess what ~ I have one somewhere, wedged into a rough card folder, lurking some dark void that has not seen the light of day for three years.
Late last night, once the sum of the family had taken themselves off to bed, I tiptoed back into the study and pulled on the bottom drawer of my trusty old filing cabinet. Fearless, I reached in to the fathomless void, bungled through the files like a predictable private detective in a mystery-suspense drama. Flitting about the rows of steel carriers, a fierce chill enwreathed me. [Okay, I hear you, that really is enough alliteration] I searched frantically for the Mystery at Ramper Pot. 'Got it', I said to no-one. But then brief shuffling sound. I couldn't see anything. But I could sense it. [did I forget to tell you that I'd left the light off?]. The springer was howling at the back door as a shadow dropped across the hallway. Maurice the stray smoothed around my calf as if nothing unusual was happening. He sniffed indifferently at the old card files loaded with paper and smelling of that old and used book smell that all seasoned readers know and love so well. And then it happened, just like all ghost stories, a slither of light, [should that have been a new para?] slashing through the window from strips in between the conifers. Another binding chill, much colder than the first …
to be continued … [which really means it's midnight and promised myself an early night].
So that will be my holiday, revamping Ramper Pot Adventures and hoping to submit something before real work begins again in the new year.
And here's to the nice agent - I'm really hoping she has time to read the real Mysteries at Ramper Pot or anything else lurking at the bottom my trusted old filing cabinet.
Note to the nice agent:
This is not an actual excerpt.
Note to anyone who's interested in my working environment:
The filing cabinet isn't actually rusty - just didn't want to let the facts spoil the story.
Note to self:
Stop procrastinating and get on with the real story.
I'll keep you posted - but maybe in the same way that gamblers do - they let you know when they've won but you never get to hear of the missed opportunities.
Hey ho, fingers crossed, looking up not down, not counting the chickens too soon, wondering whether my cup is half empty or half full …
See you all soon,
Gillian
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