Beep. Whirr.

Working hard this morning. I have utterly changed my policy on agents, seeing as many of them state in their guidelines that you can send them samples of your book (the ones that are accepting approaches) but can't guarantee to ever get back to you unless they are interested. I am just adopting a multiple, mail-them-if-they-have-a-pulse policy and turning it into a numbers game, until such point as anyone shows interest or I am done with the whole of the Children's Artists' & Writers' Yearbook. Then I will try another route. All this a long-winded way of saying I sent out my novel to two more agents. It is time consuming, because even if you have prewritten a covering letter template, synopsis and so on, each agency wants the information sent in different ways so you always have to adapt it. But machines don't mind doing this sort of thing at all. The policy from now on is one of unfeeling relentlessness. Beep. Whirr.

I sent out a short story too.

Off into town this afternoon, where I met Innis at 3:30 for a cup of coffee in The Marwood, to discuss life, business and so on. We are exploring a collaboration too, but we need a strong concept. Continued our discussion in The Seven Stars over two pints of Wolf Rock too, before I caught a bus home and cooked. As we were eating supper Lorraine's pal Sarah called around for supper, armed with a big bowl of salad. Turns out she was a month early, and the girls are meeting in our house on this date in February.

Another Cylon night, as we are binging on our DVDs of Battlestar Galactica again (not the original) which is I think is the best SF TV series ever made.

Below Innis and I sitting next to this water tap in the Marwood. Typically quirky, but it was a bit too drippy for comfort.