It’s here. No-one I wrote to wanted to take my book on. After a time of feeling the sting of rejection, I dusted myself down and published it myself. So there.
Reading over a story I had written over a year ago, it felt like meeting old friends, and enemies too. It’s the book I have always wanted to write, and the act of making that happen was sometimes therapeutic, sometimes just downright terrifying. All I can hope now is that people will read it, and be stopped in their tracks, even for a moment. One literary agent, in fact the first one I pitched to, said ‘Troubles based fiction is very hard to place’. Well, here you are, Mr.Lofty, I placed it. Right into the hands of people who want to read it. Who possibly need to read it, even 18 years after the Good Friday Agreement.
A room of one's own 