Debut.

 I've been editing my novel. The novel which will be published next year. Surely, the culmination of a decade's work. I did write little bits and pieces before that but never really showed them to anybody. In a life-long pattern of producing mushroom art under cover of darkness, I hid it away. 

Now I'm not hiding it away. The book will be out in the world, a tangible object, ready to nestle in the big front pocket of your cagoule, to bob about in your coolish tote bag, to gather dust on your toilet cistern, the spine wrinkling my name. It might even line a bookshelf or turn up in a library, waiting for you, unawares. It's going to be out there, baby. Living it's American dream. 

I'm far more excited about this than any body else.   

Obviously. 

I mean, I would be. 

But still. 

Maybe this is ordinary. Maybe everyone's got a book out. Maybe spaffing out a best-seller is like jury duty. It's possible that people just think it means nothing to me at all. It does. I really want to have a book out and now I will have and I think that's amazingly cool. I have the contract next to me on the desk as I'm typing. It's been a month and I've yet to file it away. I like to look at it. 

Nevertheless reactions have been lacklustre. Like it's boring. Do people imagine I've had a load of books out already? That the publication of this one is a quotidian occurrence, another day, another one of my doorstep police procedurals like "Ultimate Fulcrum" "The Quiller Sanction" "Death in Vintage Vans" "Police Ghost: The Inspector Spectre" "Knife Rips Through American Tan" "High Heeled Pumps" and "The Cool Corpse". 

Don't forget my run of popular sci-fi and fantasy novels too: "The Stars are Freezing" "Space Robot's Silicon Soul" "Oh Ye of Little Face" "Bastard the Barbarian" "Battle Ex" "Winged Sandals and Limp Wrists" "The Brutish Empire" and "He Jests at Stars" (Though that last one has probably been done by someone else").

Then there's my series of relatable comic novels: "Bloke" "Bloody Bloke" "Ruddy, Bloody Bloke" "A Pint, A Sit Down and a Sigh", "Here's Why You're Wrong..." "Two Points, Love..." and "At Least The Dog Loves Me."

I've exhausted my readership, that's the problem. I've saturated my market so badly it'll lead to an outbreak of Covid. But guys, IT'S AN ILLUSION. None of these things have happened. I haven't really published any books yet. I know. I've published some short stories. And then there were those plays I did. And those short films I directed. And the podcasts and the radio stuff and all the other bits and pieces. 

But this is it. This is the one. This is the real deal. Having a book out. I'm beyond thrilled. Comes out November 2024. Just in time for Christmas, guys.