What more can I say? This was my first sighting of Eden’s Garden in a real bookshop amongst real books. The kind written by authors. You know, real authors: the kind you’ve heard of. I went in, slightly shyly, to introduce myself. Not only had they heard of my book, they remembered where it was. And they believed I was me and not some sad delusional wandering in off the street. So I even got to sign some copies. Wow. So thank you Palas Print in Caernarfon. I was far too dazed to celebrate by going round Caernarfon Castle, so I sat in the sun and had a cappuccino instead.
But I did pass this amazing door on one of the castle towers. Pretty awesome, eh?
And a seagull was on guard, as usual. So maybe it was a good thing none of the cakes looked appetising. I’ve seen them filtch a burger from a grown man’s hand and I suspect a luscious cream slice would have vanished the same way.
But did I care? Nah. There’s nothing that could possibly beat the feeling of being a real published author.
And it kind of got the bug stirring again. The ooh, I really need to go and get on with some writing bug. So time to dust off the brain cells, stretch the fingers and create that small quiet space for myself amongst the interviews and the promotion (and that thing called the day job) to finally get back to the WIP.
And be a real writer again, wrestling the current work into submission while muttering to myself every now and again why I ever started this in the first place, until I hit the zone and the words flow and I’m crackling with creative fire for a couple of hours, before staggering off dazed to sit in the sunshine. And then begin the whole process again the next day.
We writers are a very strange lot, when you think about it. Yippee!