It is with some sadness that I have to inform readers that I am separating from my husband with the expectation of divorce. “Oh” I hear you think. “That’s a bit unexpected” I hear you think. “Goodness, I hope your ok?” Yes, thank you for your concern. Realistically it’s quite shit, but I know it will all be OK once the dust settles. “What does that have to do with collectors items?” you ask.
Well, I am reverting to my maiden name, Campbell-Jack (good, eh?). So therefore the anthology I’m in that was launched last week By Grand Central Station We Sat Down and Wept (available from Red Squirrel Press) will now be the only book I am ever published in under my married name of Sharratt. Which means, when I am an internationally renowned and respected poet, it will be worth more than the cover price. If you feel you should cash in, no matter to me. But having read it, it’s already worth more than the cover price anyway.
Every writer has to at one point think about what constitutes success for them, to be published by a certain publisher, have your work praised by certain peers or win a coveted prize. In my early days of writing I used to idly dream of having my work denounced by the Pope. I am pretty sure that even the most religious of my readers will agree, and there are a few, that having the Holy See cast me in the shape of sin would do wonders for book sales, as well as assuring my place as a footnote in literary history, and obscure quiz questions.
However, having mellowed as I’ve grown older I’ve also become a little more realistic, and decided that my ambition is no longer to be denounced by God’s representative on earth. So who do I want to be denounced by now? Well, it could only be Jan Moir, or indeed the Daily Mail in general. I find it hard to put into words how much I despise the Daily Mail, mainly because I am locked in a destructive relationship with it, where I feel compelled to read it every day while inside seething with disgust.
So how am I going to achieve this – well, I took the first step this week, by having work accepted to Forest Publications erotic anthology Bed Time Stories: The Second Coming. I can just feel I’m slowly turning into a threat to family values.
Me: So, what are you doing Tuesday?
You: The 8th?
You: Not much, did you have something in mind?
Me: Well, I will be reading my poem from the new Red Squirrel Press anthology “By Grand Central Station We Sat Down and Wept“, at it’s Scottish launch.
You: That sounds great.
Me: Yes, it’s the first time my writing will have appeared in an actual book, so I’m quite excited. I’ve been assured it has a spine and everything!
You: Well, I was planning on washing my hair.
Me: There are free “refreshments” (wink).
You: I suppose I could wash my hair another night. Where is it?
Me: It’s at the Fruitmarket Gallery, near Waverly Station (Edinburgh, Scotland). And before you ask, it starts at 7pm.
You: Well, I shall really look forward to seeing you.
Me: There will be a host of other talented poets reading as well.
You: Even better.