When I went for my walk this morning, I thought about what I'd write for the Blog today. I was going to write about the joys of dragging my arse out of bed at 5.00am to be hauled around the block a few times by a 90lb labrador. I was going to be witty and funny. Forget it, I'll save that for another day. Pfffft.
As I logged on to read my e-mails this morning, 'Fields of Gold' was playing on the radio and I thought, 'oooh, now there's a good omen, perhaps I'll get a nice request from an agent about my book, 'Fields of Gold, Fields of Red'. My hand trembled a bit when I noticed that I had, indeed, received an email from British Agent that I'd queried. Could this be it? Sadly, no. This makes me wonder, is anyone interested in novels set during the Great War? Has it receded too far into the past for anyone to want to read about it? The themes of love, patience, devotion, survival and redemption haven't changed. Wars are still being fought in foreign fields by people who are loved and missed. Soldiers still come home wounded and broken inside. The only difference about the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan are the weapons, the end results and the effects are still the same. These thoughts were in the back of my mind when I wrote the book and I hoped that the story I told would strike a chord with readers today.
So, do I plug away hoping that, somewhere, there's someone who thinks it will be a book worth fighting for? There's a term that was used by the British Military during the 19th Century, when men were sent on a mission where there was little or no hope of success, it was called a 'Forlorn Hope'. Is that what I'm engaged in here?
As for the morning walk. I'll get back to that.
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