There aren’t many ways to announce these things without sounding like a right bloody sod-sock. But I’ve always liked the classic, this-is-still-a-kind-of-job way — let’s call it the Philip K Dick way — of saying you’ve sold a novel to a publisher. Possibly because it sounds like you might be able to eat again.
So: on the back of the Dundee International Book Prize shortlisting, my brilliant agent has sold The Folded Man to Sandstone Press. Further proof as if it weren’t already obvious from the blurb that agents and publishers do take risks. That the world of publishing doesn’t always tread carefully. And for me, affirmation that even if it’s a tricky sell, a prickly concept, belief goes a hell of a way.
Owing to the time necessary to get the prize-winner’s book made, I’ve known for quite a while now. I’ve just been sitting on it, fizzing away. And now Mr Jacob Appel has been announced as the worthy winner of this year’s prize, it’s lovely to say that being one of two runners-up still feels like winning.
A bit like Will Young and Gareth Gates.
Excited doesn’t even come close. I’m a very lucky boy.