A while ago I got an email from San Francisco – a very small publisher planning a very low budget anthology had seen and wanted me to submit more for inclusion. Money would be involved – and, unexpectedly, it would be coming in my direction.
I ignored the email for a while, then thought 'what the hell' and replied. He was still keen. I was worried – lots of questions about rights and suchlike.
So I joined the Writers' Guild, the trade union for inky-fingered fictioneers.
The membership pack came in this morning's post. They got my surname wrong.
The letter began “Dear Mr Darcy”. There was a membership card in the same name.
I'll just go and jump in a lake, shall I?