Back in December, when I had finished a round of edits with my agent and was desperately trying to fill the waiting void and prevent myself from becoming a pestering nuisance/psychopath, I wrote about my agent-finding journey. The post went down well, and people seemed to appreciate the tiny sliver of insight I could provide into what is an impossibly unpredictable, confusing and subjective experience.
Before I started querying agents, I read up on everything anyone had ever written on the subject. Stories from successful authors, articles written by agents themselves and blog posts from writers who’d just landed their dream representative.
I started Veganuary, as most people do, because I’d spent the majority of December hoovering my way through an entire farm’s worth of saturated-fat-filled animal products, and was feeling the effects. Sticky toffee puddings with thick cream, roast potatoes cooked in beef dripping and charred pigs in blankets were sitting on my body and my brain, and it felt heavy.