There’s an increasing disconnect going on between my perceived status and my actual status. Take today, for example. An author friend of mine emailed four people to help her rewrite the blurb for her forthcoming novel, since the publishers had basically ruined the back page bit of her advertising copy by composing something rubbish.

One of the recipients was the author with whom she’s collaborated on two novels already. The second was many people’s author of the year for 2010, someone who’s been eulogised as a frightening talent. The third was an editor who I’ve heard described as being ‘shit-hot’. And the fourth was… er… me. Well, I’m more than confused.

As Johnny 5 would say: “Need… input!” I’m not complaining, of course – it’s great to exist in this kind of company for even the few lines of this plea for help. But I can’t help but feel like a bit of a fraud. I did write the best new line, though, to be fair.

New Year’s Eve tomorrow. New Year’s Resolutions will, of course, be inbound. 2011’s going to be a good one, and everyone’s invited.

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