Wooda farm, Crackington Haven, Heaven on earth

I have just got back from LA, where I have been with littleson for three weeks to be with the old man while his show opens there. I am just serving dessert to my lovely friend Max Burrows, who has come down to Brighton to talk about the website we have been working on for Wooda, his retreat/workshop space in Cornwall, when the phone rings.

‘Julia?’

‘Yes?’

‘It’s Simon Trewin.’

I sit down, grab wine. Simon Trewin of United Agents has had my novel for a while. I sent him a synopsis back in August 2009, the first 10,000 words on request in September, then the whole thing towards the end of November. While in LA, I convinced myself that that was that, Simon Trewin wasn’t going to get back, and I was going to look for new agents to submit to when I got back.

‘I love your novel,’ Simon says.

I try to retain an air of cool; I try not to punch the air and go woo hoo, but it’s hard. Max reaches over and squeezes my hand. I flutter and fly into the front room. Simon has issues about the ending as it stands, largely because he can’t bear to see what I have there happen to my main character – it leaves too many questions in his mind. But he can’t stop thinking about it and he couldn’t stop turning the pages when he read it.

Could we meet next week?, he asks; could I bear to come up to London? Could I?

We make a date for the following Thursday, and I say I’ll look at the ending. At last, someone wanting to read my writing other than me!

As for discussions about websites – the rest of the evening is a bit of a washout, as it turns into something of a celebration, and prosecco is bought and downed. Luckily Max is as excited as I am about the news.