I'm pleased to have sold another story. The money isn't anything to shout about -- it's not anything to whisper about either, come to that -- and it's not that I go weak at the knees when I see my name in print. Nope, the reason it pleases me, is that until a story gets that editorial thumbs-up, you've no real idea whether the story is good or not. It is a golden rule in writing: don't ask your friends and relatives for their opinions on your stories. Or rather, don't rely on their opinions. After all, what do they know?
Consider this: all those people you see making a complete twat of themselves at the Pop Idol or the X-Factor auditions are there because people have told them they're good. Friends and relatives who are, presumably, neither deaf nor cruel, have encouraged their nearest and dearest to go on national TV and completely humiliate themselves. What makes this writer different? Well, until he gets that editorial thumbs-up, not a great deal sadly. So that's why I'm glad to sell 'No Dogs Allowed'. Before yesterday, I only thought it was good; today, I know it's good.
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