It was one of my favourite postcards as well - the one of the little girl holding a pig and laughing her little socks off. I bought it in Granville Island Market two years ago. I do hope I get it back.

Well. So. Ta da. I’ve done it. Yeah. I’ve finally finished my synopsis. I have actually made a submission to a literary agent. Crikey. And it only took two months as well.

I don’t feel relieved, I don’t feel elated. I do still feel a little tired, having gone almost 40 hours without any sleep, but mostly I feel terrified. I’m convinced I made a mistake somewhere in the submission. I’m suddenly possessed with the certainty that really it’s not a terribly good novel at all. I’m now almost certain I spelt my name wrong, or put a kiss after I wrote it. As soon as I dropped the envelope into the post box, all I wanted to do was stick my arm in and pull it out again.

But that’s a good sign, isn’t it? It’s certainly not a bed made for hubris.

I’ll be away for the next ten days, halfway up a mountain and permanently halfway through a cup of black coffee, listening to David Bowie and thinking about schizophrenia. Hopefully by the time I get back, my little laughing girl with her pig will be waiting for me.