An eventful week

Monday was a fantastic day. I travelled to London and met the woman that I hope will be my literary agent. What an incredible trip - and I refer not to driving to Ruislip and getting the tube to Central London as fun as that was. Eighteen months ago I was essentially the same person I have been since I was five years old - a person that wanted to be a writer. I dreamed of being a writer, I desperately hoped that I could write but other than doing a daily journal and making notes on the occasional idea I was paralysed to start any piece of work; too terrified that I'd find out that I had wasted 25 years on a dream that I would be unable to materialise.

I've not really failed yet, you see. Not in work at least - my love life has been an unmitigated disaster from time to time but even that hasn't stopped me because I try and find a way to turn every negative into a positive, every bad experience into something to learn and grow from.

I didn't study much for my A Levels. I remember walking into college to get my results thinking "today, now is the time where I get found out, where I finally get my payback for spending my study time drinking beer and smoking cigarettes rather than diligently working my books". The relief flooded through me when I opened the envelope to find the A in Spanish, B in French and C in Business Studies.

My parents were pissed as hell when I said I wasn't going to Barcelona for my gap year before university; that I'd move to Nottingham with my boyfriend and work for the year there instead. Looking back 15 years later I kind-of wish I'd had that year over there too, but that first job in Nottingham paved the way for my path through life that lead me right to this moment, so I can't regret it.

My poor, unfortunate parents were to be upset again a year later when I decided to stay in my job at a small software company rather than going to university, but when that job lead to another better job down South I think they forgave me and began to see me as a career girl.

Two years later and I was made redundant and facing doing the same job for another company I decided to set up my own web design business from home. I did wonder what on earth I was doing - tempting the fates for failure yet again. I had the distinct sensation that I was taking the piss out of the universe in a big way. The sensation got worse as during the first quiet months of the business I spent more time watching Jerry Springer than applying myself to making the company an ongoing concern, but call it luck or good timing it all went as it should and 11 years later that company is still running, although without me at the helm.

The writing dream, held dulled by years of copywriting and journal scribbling started to jerk into life when I began having healing and doing meditation daily during 2002. At that point it was a craving, a yearning but I would still only ever write two or three words, perhaps a sentence or even a page before screwing it all up to put in the bin.

Part of my problem, which I believe I may have already mentioned once or twice, was a fear of having other people, namely my loved ones, read what I had written. So in October of 2005 I set up a simple web site to publish the occasional article, mainly ramblings on my own opinions that I hold dear. It worked. I know that only a small handful of people have read what I have written but having my work out there and not having the world collapse on top of me changed me and helped me care less.

A month later and I hit on my big idea. A non-fiction book about my experiences as a stepmother - alongside the experiences that my stepson's mother had watching me raise her child. Right before Christmas 2005 I asked Sam if she'd be prepared to work on the project with me and she agreed immediately. I tentatively mentioned the idea to a couple of writers and editors that I know and they seemed to think it was interesting, which gave me the confidence to start.

The first half of 2006 was spent writing my own part, interviewing Sam and writing her side while home educating my daughter Kiera. Knowing that Kiera would start school in September I took the summer off to be with her and started my proposal when she began school.

I got some encouragement towards the end of last year from an agent friend of a friend. He said he liked the idea and it had a good chance of being sold and so I sent it out to several agents and watched rejection after rejection pile up at home. Funnily enough, I wasn't bothered. I reminded myself of how many times Harry Potter got rejected before being accepted and continued to send out my proposal.

Fast forward to Monday and I have a real-life meeting with a real-life agent to discuss my book. The 45 minutes I spent in her office passed too quickly for me to have absorbed it at the time but I distinctly recall her saying "you can definitely write" and something about me having a strong narrative voice. Having no experience in this area I'm assuming this is all good.

I refuse to say that it's too good to be true or that I don't believe it because I think that's a sure-fire way to invite the whole thing to go wrong. Instead I say that it's amazing and incredible that she wants to see the second third of the book and will be talking to some editors that she knows to judge the market interest for my idea.

I'm not quite confident yet. I don't quite consider myself a writer. When people ask what I do I explain that I do some book keeping and consulting and oh, I'm writing a book. But the fear of failure has gone away - I do feel that I can really do this. I need to keep hold of my dream and take steps towards it every day and I can make it happen in my life just as I've made the other parts of my career happen. Now if I can just figure out how to create similar personal success in my love life...