Good morning, come in. Its chaos here, I'm trying to get my eight year old to eat something not chocolate based before school and the baby has discovered the joy of throwing his breakfast. There is coffee, but it's only instant and I think there's a stale croissant at the back of the bread bin, but you'll have to fight over it. Still, move a pile of laundry off of a chair, take a seat and relax. Do you take sugar, only I've run out and the thing is the only milk I've got is formula milk.....
So wow, what can I post about I wonder, so many brilliant and original subjects have been covered here over the last few months. And then here on the eve (ok I cheated I'm writing this while baby cat naps on Thursday evening) ....on the eve of publication of Tamsyn's first novel MY SO CALLED AFTER LIFE, I realised that part of the joy of being part of the racers over the last two years has been seeing my friends achieve so much - Calistro, Tam, Caroline to name just a few of us have found all the hard work, dedication and belief they've put in finally paying off.
I've been in print now for the best part of a decade. I've had a great career so far, never quite edging it into the top ten (top fifteen three times!) but I've made the New York Times bestseller once (for about five minutes) and seen my book published in several countries with some modest success. I even get royalties now, got a cheque for £18.97 last week. And to have a writing career over so many years is in itself an achievement. But is it what I expected when I started out? No, not really. I expected to sell a million copies of every book, to see some Hollywood starlet star in the film adaptation (s) and to finally get the chance to air my booker prize winning speech that I have been practicing since the age of nine. Almost ten years in and I know how lucky I've been to have come this far, but if I'm honest and prepared to risk some ridicule I still practice that speech in the bath, even though I know that I haven't ever really been eligible to for that particular prize since I discovered that I am the kind of writer that writes the kind of books that people read for fun. But, for me at least, part of being a writer is that you never stop dreaming or hoping or believing that dreams can come true, not matter how improbable they might be. And who knows maybe one day someone will preface my name with the words 'And the winner is....' Even if it is only the lady calling out the raffle prize results at the Brownies Bring and Buy.
And so my post is short but sweet. We all write because we must, its part of us, it is what we are. But whether you are published or not, whether you write simply for the joy of it or to pay your bills - what are your great expectations? What do you secretly dream of for your writing life and do you believe that reality has or will match up to you dreams?