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I have to write to an agent now.
I got The Lockdown Tales published and largely sold already, without one.
But it took a lot of work, and pulled me away from writing.
An agent gets to work on the next one, to be in shops before Christmas!
But I'm going for a walk first.
"An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying King;
Backed by all those dregs of his Party, who flow
Through public scorn,—mud from a muddy spring;
Rulers who cannot see or feel or know,
But leechlike to their fainting country cling
Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow."