Well, my seventeenth novel was published today and my publishers have sent me a very nice bottle of wine engraved with the book’s title and a congratulatory message. How do they do that!
Sorry you’re not here to join me, but I think I’ll pour myself a small glass of something before retiring for the night. Tomorrow I face a roomful of strangers for the third time this week, putting a big smile on my face, talking for forty minutes and convincing them to buy the book.
I have to admit I find this the most difficult part of being a writer. I much prefer to sit down and invent a new world and a new story.
Now write a short story where a crime happens. The crime is where a pigeon attacks a pirate dog with wooden leg and beats him with it trying to get information on the location of the specially brewed absinthe. They are discovered by a head lesss computer geek who is stumped with the mystery of the spectacle that has unfolded before him.