Sorry I’ve been out of circulation for a while. I’ve had a lot going on, but the main one is something rather nice. Last year I set up a literary magazine showcasing writers over 50, the ‘late bloomers’ of the literary world. I may have mentioned it before, but my memory is full of cotton, hay and rags, to quote Professor Higgins in My Fair Lady. It’s called Thin Skin and in the capacity of founding editor, I attended the London Book Fair in March.
It was fascinating to learn more about literary agents, publishing, marketing, distribution and rights. When you’re typing/scribbling away, hoping for fame and fortune or even just a few readers who are not friends and family, you don’t think of everything that goes into producing a book. It was also good to network, something I’ve always hated but it felt easy and natural here. I learnt about a local writers’ group, talked to a self-publishing outfit and connected with Sisters in Crime. Most of all I was delighted that a close friend won the Selfies Award for her book, Can I Speak to Josephine Please?
Away from the Book Fair, I also learnt that the opening of my (unfinished) novel was selected to feature in Embark magazine, and the short story that vanished when the magazine changed owners has been accepted by Spillwords.
But enough of all this self-promotion. Let’s get down to business.
Earlier this year, I submitted a piece to a magazine that specialises in publishing fictional rejection letters. In a perfect illustration of irony, my rejection letter was rejected. So instead of looking for publication elsewhere, I’ve decided to share it with the good people of Substack. Coming to a screen near you, preferably one you already use - DEAR MR MILNE! Prepare to be amused. Or shocked. Or indifferent. The choice is yours.