Fame at Last

I am going to be a published poet.

Adelaide's Friendly Street Poets hold an annual competition for unpublished poets. They recruit an outside judge, of impeccable pedigree, to select three manuscripts from all (four of) the submissions and then the winners are published in the next installment of their New Poets series. This year my manuscript was one of the three winners and will be published next year in New Poets 14. Hopefully with its correct, singular, title - The Boy Full of Broken Promise.

Judging by the stellar career arcs of the previous thirty-nine winners it is a spring board to fame and fortune. Which is lucky, because several people I've told have asked me - after looking awkward and shifty for a few seconds - if this will help me get anything worthwhile published, or words to that effect.

Don't they get it's all about the love?

I'm still over the moon about it and the vast majority of people have been happy for me, though Knickers is very concerned about her parents reading some of them. I told my year 4 prac students and made them all promise to buy a copy. Bless 'em.

Got to go, my agent is on the phone; probably Hollywood trying to secure the movie rights again.

Like I'd sell out for less than a gold class cinema ticket.