I'm at the airport.
Today, this country mouse is off to the big city in the south to meet her publisher.
Even saying the words 'my publisher' makes me feel as though I have stepped into some kind of alternate reality. Me. The girl at school who spent English lessons wondering what it would feel like to have my name on the cover of a book. Not because I wanted to be famous or anything so silly, but to have something I had written being read by people I didn't know (SCE examiners didn't count).
And now, or at least in the next couple of months, it's going to happen. The developmental edits are done, the copy edits will come back to me next week, and then it's the home straight of proofs and acknowledgements and (perhaps) book club notes.
Unbound, my publisher (there I go again) is five years old and I've been invited to their birthday party in London. In publishing terms five years is the turn of a page.
Penguin is EIGHTY, founded in 1936
Canongate were set up in 1973.
So Unbound are mere whippersnappers - and I like that. Kids see the world differently. They ask the questions no one else dares to voice. They say 'why?' And 'what if...' quite a lot. being a kid in the publishing world is rather fun, I think.
My red party shoes are in my suitcase (actually a well travelled and rather battered rucksack) and I'm really looking forward to meeting the amazing people who want to publish my book.
I wonder if there will be cake.