There are some days when I really know I have picked the right career path. This week has been full of days like this. Firstly, I successfully sent the files for my next promotional postcard off to the printers and they came back yesterday stacked neatly in a box looking all professional and lovely. Sending off print jobs always fills me with anxiety; a history of dealing with corrupt files, spelling mistakes and even the occasional “caption goes here” left in the space under photos means I never completely trust myself until I have the product back in my hands and have read the text over and over and over. But all was fine. I have addressed a stack of the cards, spent a bomb on postage and will be sending out the first lot today. I am waiting on my new edition of the Children’s Writer’s & Illustrator’s Market to arrive from the States so I can send out the next lot to a whole group of unsuspecting art directors and designers. Also, I designed a brand, spanking new business card that I am very happy with and will hopefully come back from the printers today so that I will have them ready to hand out at a client meeting tomorrow morning.
This client meeting is quite intriguing. I am having the Melbourne Romance Writers Guild sub-committee over for morning tea and to discuss a new logo for their organisation. I am so excited about having a room bursting full of romance writers! (“a swoon of romance writers” is the collective noun that Big-P thought of this morning). I am imagining a room full of ladies with big hair, huge earrings, glossy lipstick on generous mouths and an exciting array of muu-muus. When I told Lliam about my meeting he rightly suggested that I should make sure I have vases full of fresh flowers throughout the house and have the french doors opening out onto the garden (this is a given if the weather is good). Along these same lines I also imagine I should serve towering cake trays laden with sticky little treats and pour gallons of tea into pretty, gold rimmed teacups which will perch precariously on piles of dog eared manuscripts on top of teetering antique coffee tables. Big-P kindly (but not rightly) suggested that he could make sure that he will stride through the house broodingly and mysteriously with his shirt gaping open. This probably won’t have quite the right effect as he will be on Amelia duty and will be invariably covered in drool and vomit. Mind you, I haven’t read a romance book in a long time and perhaps these days there are sub-genres which involve domesticated men who can “gaa-gaa, goo-goo” with the best of them. I mentioned some of my expectations to my contact from the group who emailed me back saying “get ready to be surprised”! What can this mean?!