Two weeks ago I finished writing a novel. It has taken me a mere eight, perhaps nine, years. I have sent it to my agent. He might like it. If he does, he will try and sell it. Perhaps it will be published. Who knows? Not me.
I am wondering, though, whether to try an experiment. Given the J K Rowling/Robert Galbraith saga, I seems to me that I would be well advised to masquerade as a female writer called Robert Rowling and then, by way of subverting the terrible fate of Chuck Ross, to replace my manuscript with the words of a best-selling male author, someone like J K Galbraith.
Meantime, I have been in Patagonia. No, not the area of South America that I've always wanted to visit. No, not the book by Bruce Chatwin (the text of which I have copied out by hand and sent off to several leading publishers under the pseudonym 'Bruce Chatwin'). But yes, the excellent wetsuit made by, er, Patagonia.
What more is there to say? It's a fine suit, the best I've ever had. Next up comes a beautiful wooden surfboard courtesy of James Otter. Aerial Attack will chronicle my exploits on this and they will appear in a publication in a piece written by Alex Rowling. I will rely upon the wife of a lawyer friend's wife to disclose the truth at the Budleigh Salterton Literary Festival, at which I am appearing on 23 September as myself.
Pictured courtesy of the BBC: J K Wade and her sister.
