Unrequited pessimism
I was convinced today was going to be a bad day for the authorial ego.

I had a teleconference to discuss a "shell" report. "Shells" are when one puts together the report sans data - something I wish I'd known could be done when my PhD committee were after me for lack of data! First time I'd done this, and I'd been in a meeting where the client had dismembered the statistician's document describing the planned stats analysis. So I didn't know what to expect. And then there was the package waiting for me at the post office. Time was when a package was a NICE thing to have waiting. Except there's this novel, which has been at the publisher 8 months, and just before Christmas I wrote a letter saying um, remember me.

Not so bad, after all. No dismemberment, just nip, tuck and some moving around of parts, at least until the first draft of the full report (with data) goes in. And the package was indeed a novel, but NOT MINE. A review copy of VENTUS, which had already passed the Sinclair First Page test in Monroe's bookstore and was going to be acquired soon - when my current attack of fiscal responsibility (as in "I shouldn't buy any more books") wore off. The Sinclair First Page test is (1) do I see a picture (2) is it in colour (3) is the language distinctive? It's not infallible - SHARDS OF HONOR failed it back in 1990 or thereabouts. But it generates more false negatives than false positives, ie, I'm more likely to reject a book I might later read and enjoy than pick up a book I do not enjoy.

I have seen the enemy and she is myself! Would your first three published novels have passed The Sinclair First Page test? Ah me, I know it is all true. But now and then one does feel a little twitchy about how slender the window for catching the attention--even of devoted bibliophiles--really is.

OK Blogger, eat this one.
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