That's not a good title for someone who says they are a writer. I've been trying to find something to blog about for the last week. I should have no problem as I do a very interesting day job (but I can't write about it here), and I've just come back from a fantastic week in Norway, cruising up and down the fjords. Please don't misunderstand my choice of words as the ship's captain took care of the logistics of it all - I was merely along for the view, food and drink.
Since then, so much has happened that it all seems a little surreal. We drove back from Southampton docks, stopping at the services to buy June's issue of Writing Magazine containing a new author profile about me and my novel. It was fantastic to read, but a bit strange to see a photograph of myself in such circumstances. My book, Never Forget, has gone on sale airside at WH Smith shops in airports ahead of the publication date of 11th July. Plus my launch date and venue have been confirmed, lots of family and friends are attending and I've actually signed a couple of copies for people who have been kind enough to buy them. Oh and then someone at work flew from Heathrow and bought a copy, and to top it all, Sainsbury's are stocking the book in 90 stores in the south east of England.
Thankfully, I drink, or it really could all be too much.
There's so much going on at the moment, no wonder I'm confused. I was supposed to meet a friend today at the gym but I had a siesta instead. I thought about telling fibs when I failed to show up. I am writing fiction after all, but then I figured to be a good liar, you need a good memory. I've forgotten two birthdays this week. I have no chance of subterfuge. Just cough up - makes life so much easier.