Twitter was suitably amazing and very validating, and my family are all lovely and proud. I am thrilled - this is the next step to fulfilling my dreams after all, and I got to say 'I'm very happy' over and over again. But there's an oddness to it all too. An oddness akin to someone coming up to you on your birthday and saying "so how does it feel to be twenty-six?" and you realise that you feel exactly the same as you did yesterday, when you were twenty-five.
I think the realisation of my brand new responsibility is settling in now. Not only to myself, to fulfil my potential, but to my new agent, and to all the people who wished me well yesterday on Twitter and Facebook. It's all real now. That fluffy cloud that sat in my head, containing all those hopes and dreams and possibilities, is now outside of my head. Everybody can see that fluffy cloud, and I can't let it float on by and dissipate. I have to do something with it. There's intrinsic pressure there. The cloud looms.
And then there's the issue of the book itself. It's suddenly become VERY important. It's turned from a kitten to a tiger, and I just hope and pray I can do the story justice. And that my agent likes it. And then that a publisher likes it. And then that readers like it. See what I mean about the pressure cloud? Instead of writing for me, I'm now writing for a lot more people. It's daunting.
I'm going to be bold with the truth now, because sometimes I think in the UK we're told not to be bold, or to be embarrassed at being bold. I'm going to say it though: I think I can do it. I honestly do. I don't know yet how long it's going to take (hopefully not that long) but I really do think I can do this. And what's great about having an agent: I'm finally not alone. She thinks I can do it too.
Hugs and high fives,