A lot of writers have day jobs. Making a living from wordsmithery alone is not as easy as it was in the days of Shakespeare, when all you had to do was be one of two local writers that could hold a quill in order to go down in history.  These days everyone with a notes function on their phone can have a go, slush piles are the size of the giant redwood, and rather than trawling through them publishers turn to the equally underqualified beautiful celebrities instead. I think that’s how it works, anyway – this précis is brought to you by much reading of articles on the state of publishing today and not through direct experience of having my own work passed over in favour of very tall footballer Peter Crouch.  Continue reading “When Writers Commute” →