The Day After…

I think I’m suffering from PND – that can only refer to Post Novel Depression for us male writers. I never thought it affected me, but then thinking about it, I have never had a gap of much more than twenty-four hours before starting another book before. This has been a week.

I didn’t start another one, because I wanted to devote some real time to promoting my existing novels and perhaps developing new methods of getting the word across that readers should try my books for a change. However, the very day after I finished ‘Dead Centre II’ I knew that I didn’t feel quite right in the head.

So far, my new strategies are not producing a significant increase in sales, which is depressing enough, but one woman on LinkedIn offered to introduce me to her network of ‘avid female readers’ for $350. She said I would soon recoup the money by charging her membership higher than my normal prices, ‘because they wouldn’t know any different’.

I did though and told her to get on her bike. I hate that sort of thing. She was trying to con me with the offer of duping her list, if she has one, into paying over the odds for my books, and thought that that would be an offer too good for me to resist. How dare she assume that I’m as bent as she is?

Anyway, yesterday I went for a hair of the dog the day after Neem’s party, although I did manage to wait until afternoon, though not until I’d eaten, which is always a big mistake, especially now that I’m a bit older. I don’t remember going home, but it was before seven p.m. However I’m in the doghouse today.

Neem says I was telling everyone that her boobs hang down to her waist. I certainly don’t remember saying that. It doesn’t even sound like the sort of thing I’d say about a friend, leave alone my wife. I’ve been racking my brains all day about it and I do remember saying, when asked whether I like holding our granddaughter, that it is safer for women to hold babies because they can perch the baby on their bust and just make sure it doesn’t fall off, whereas men have to be careful they don’t drop the baby.

I can only assume that Neem misunderstood what I was saying.

Still, going on past experience, it is better to say nothing today and just wait for her anger about my having enjoyed a day alone to burn out.

Luckily, she doesn’t bear grudges for long, still, it might be a good idea to start a new book soon.

St. Patrick’s Day today. I thought Davy might have come around since he’s Irish and we’re the only two Celts for miles, but no, so I’ll just have to sit here writing this to you alone.

All the best,

Owen

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