At the mercy of unknown agents

I know I was lucky. I got placed in a big writing competition and found an agent all without having to query one. But six years on, I need a new agent and a chance to get the other books I have written in the last five years that haven't been published, out there. So I did what was recommended and sent out to a whole batch of very professional agents - and one asked for the whole MS. Three more said thanks, but no thanks. One asked for anything else I had for consideration. I knew The Asylum Sisters would be a challenge, but I wanted to give it one more chance. I'll go out with Finding Noah next month. I've still got other books so I can keep going BUT... As my books have changed, have I moved from saleable to more niche and less commercial? Who knows? That's why a writer needs an agent. The hardest thing is the rejection. They look at what you wrote and - no thanks. It's hard on the confidence. Meanwhile, I have FOUR books to sell and more stories to finish. 

Anyway, the new book rolls on. It's so hard to get into the head of someone who doesn't think like non-psychopaths. My character enjoys the challenge of taking on the establishment, he doesn't actually like hurting people. He doesn't care that much though... I'm rationing the time I spend with him and concentrating on my grandchildren (plural - how lovely is that?). One is a month old, one is just three years old today. Fantastic. We're doing our pre-Christmas get together, just the kids and their people, to celebrate Lily's birthday, get a bit of Solstice cheer going on. Another excuse not to write this weekend.

We're also loving being settled in our new house. I haven't felt at home since we left Pinehurst with its hot and cold running badgers and precipitous drive. I don't miss being so isolated, though, Appledore is a wonderfully welcoming community. And when my neighbour's security light went off in the middle of the night, waking me, it turned out to be a fat, grey badger. 

Old house