Firstly, I went out to post a letter to my agent.
And in the letter were three copies of
a three book contract…
And in the letter were three copies of
a three book contract…
…specifically, for the translation rights of one of my trilogies.
Now this was extra special for a number of reasons. Firstly, it’s the first time I have sold all three books of a trilogy at once for translation. Because the publisher also has to pay the translator, they often buy one at a time.
Secondly, it was the first time this particular trilogy has gone for translation.
Thirdly, it was …um… ok, you don’t need to know that. Let’s just say that it was nicely surprising.
So then I come back to the house to find another nice thing had happened –
my lovely editor Stephanie at Voyager Australia has sent me a hot-off-the-presses copy of The Last Stormlord. It had been couriered and was leaning against the front door.
my lovely editor Stephanie at Voyager Australia has sent me a hot-off-the-presses copy of The Last Stormlord. It had been couriered and was leaning against the front door.
What can I say?
Firstly, it looks even better than the pix I posted yesterday!!
The colour is somehow more intriguing, and it kinda glows.
My name is BIGGER than the title. Does that mean I have arrived??? Only the French and the Russians have done that before… (I think I sell rather well in Russian speaking countries, actually.) Oh, and my name is shiny. Nice.
Firstly, it looks even better than the pix I posted yesterday!!
The colour is somehow more intriguing, and it kinda glows.
My name is BIGGER than the title. Does that mean I have arrived??? Only the French and the Russians have done that before… (I think I sell rather well in Russian speaking countries, actually.) Oh, and my name is shiny. Nice.
Here is one happy, happy writer…
That's great! You certainly sound as if you had a very good day! : )
???Glad it was such a fab day, but when did you get back home?
I am still in Virginia, Jo!! sorry if I gave the wrong impression.
My grandson just called me his underwear minion. Gods, he's just five and he senses the essence of being a mother – or a mother substitute – perfectly.
Very cunning these youngsters. Bit like cats really, they recognise you are there to serve them.
Wheeeee!
Woo-hoo. Go Glenda!
That sounds like writer heaven – except the minion bit.