On Monday I get the opportunity to pitch my novel to HarperCollins. I still can't quite believe it and I'm hoping to come away with some excellent feedback at the very least. And so to prepping. I have been going over my answers to the questions I think they might ask me. I have determined that my book has many levels and is bursting with storylines and interconnected themes making it fairly difficult to encapsulate into a few words but I'm getting there.
I don't have the headache from prepping for the pitch, although I am excitedly nervous about it. I have the head bursting agony from only drinking two cups of tea today and trying to use a printer. Honestly. . . . I reckon hell is an office where you teter from broken photocopiers to jammed paper trays and ink toners that have run out and not been reordered to the wrong colour/thickness/size of paper and no black pens left.
First I ran out of ink. Then I bought a colour cartridge by mistake. Then I couldn't find the right black ink cartridge. Then it rained (while I was trying to carry a ream of paper back). Then I still haven't had a god-damn cup of tea. Then I had to share my ice cream. Then I figured I probably ought to read the first three chapters to make sure they were actually worth submitting. Then I did congratulate myself on a tiny bit of awesomeness. Then I realised I printed out the first three chapters without my name in the header. So now I have a spare copy. I've just looked at the info bar on the bottom of the laptop and I'm almost out of battery. And now Windows 10 wants to install.