As vowed in last week's blog post, I went to my local library in search of a writer's handbook/yearbook in which to find agents. Alas, there wasn't one, either in the library or in any of the other ones nearby. I left, wondering when I might find the time to go into Southampton to look in the library there. I hate going into the city and my half-term break was practically over.
Fortunately, at that moment, I remembered that I actually work in a library and that maybe they have one there, what with all the books and everything.
Yes, I work in a library, in a college, and it took me a frighteningly stupid amount of time to connect this fact with my search for a library book. I have no excuse, other than being a moron.
Today at work I had a spare moment to search the library catalogue and quickly found what I was looking for. So now I have a copy of The Writers' and Artists' Yearbook to search through, although it is from 2007. Nonetheless, that's a six-year improvement on my own copy. Once my list is compiled (quickly eliminating all the many agents who don't accept fantasy) I'm sure I'll be able to check online to make sure they're still operating.
In other news, the remainder of Chapter 18 was growled at for a large portion of last week, eventually written on Saturday and edited on Sunday. I'm actually reasonably happy with it, although I'm sure that will change when I come to read the whole thing through in a few months' time and wonder how on earth I ever thought that was good enough to actually be written down.
My MA graduation is this Friday, which means a rather glorious day off work even if much of the morning will be spend worrying that I'll fall over. Or perhaps fall asleep. Not to call the whole experience boring but I couldn't hear a damn thing during my BA one (deaf as a post, especially in an echoey cathedral) so I might have to take a book to while away the time.
Kidding. I think.