That's it then; I've finished the day job and am now a full time writer (for a while at least).
I've pictured several scenarios for this. At one extreme is me lying on a chaise lounge dictating my latest masterpiece to a minion who'll do all that pesky editing, proofreading and promotion while I drink champagne at glitzy book launches and award ceremonies. Unlikely. At the other extreme is me scratching away in a cold dark attic and then eating the manuscripts because I can't afford food.
Just because the first one is unlikely it doesn't mean it can't happen, right? (The picture shows me at the most glamorous event my writing has so far taken me)
In all my imagined versions of life as a writer I do have to actually come up with some stories so I'm going to get on with that straight away. Well, almost straight away.
My lovely husband suggested I might like to spend a couple of nights in London with him first. We'll be staying at this new place along the Thames and he'll buy me new boots, jacket and accessories. Sounds good, eh? I'm sure there can't possibly be a catch ...
When I get back I'm going to look at Gayle's competition list and see which of the 140+ I want to enter.