Guess what position I am in the Sunday Times list this week. That’s right – number bloody 4. I have never got above 5 (which isn’t bad) but 4 – FOUR!!!! The Mother of All Christmases has been selling like hot mince pies and I couldn’t be more chuffed. Nope. It’s right up in the lists with JK Rowling, David Walliams, Ant Middleton (sigh), my pal Veronica Henry (bigging it up for the Commercial Fiction females) Lee Child. Yep, the book done good. Thank you everyone who has bought it. Thank you to everyone who has written me lovely letters. Bugger off to the people who don’t like my inclusion about organ donation at the front – go get a refund, no one is forcing you to donate – that’s your choice – but don’t dictate that others shouldn’t. I have dear people alive because of organ donation, they’d be pushing up daises if it wasn’t for that donor list. Just thank you.
Inside me is still a Barnsley lass who didn’t think that she would ever really get a book published, but she gave it her all because at least then, if she failed, she could say she tried. She didn’t fail. Sometimes you have to just go for it. It took me fifteen years to get a deal and it was worth every rejection letter I ever had, every negative comment that made me think ‘Yep, maybe they have a point, I need to change that.’ Incidentally my present agent rejected me years and years ago because she didn’t like my characters. ‘Fair point’ I thought, and I made them less moany about pregnancy and more empowered by it. Her comment lead me to a publishing deal (with another agent). But now I have her.