Superstar, that’s what you are, only hairier, with less money and no groupies...

Today has marked another change in my bearded view of the world. For today I have been transformed from a bloke with a computer and a cat, to someone who receives FAN MAIL! Hurrah! I think... Luckily the plural of fan mail is the same as the singular, so it still sounds impressive. Round about noon, the postman turned up today with an envelope with my name on it in black biro, and my address in blue. ‘Oho’, thinks I, ‘what’s all this then?’ And it turned out to be a very nice letter from a Mr Hamilton from Clydebank, forwarded on by HarperCollins (or at least I assume it has been, hence the different pens on the envelope). Hate mail, I thought I’d probably get by the bucket load, but letters from obviously deeply talented and intelligent people telling me they like the book? Didn’t actually count on that.

So, now I’m going to have to start trashing hotel rooms and going to orgies and maybe wear some spandex too.

The thing that concerns me, is what happens now? I’ve never sent or received any fan mail before – do I reply with an autographed 10 by 4 of my hairy face, or do I file it under ‘things to read next time you get kicked in the nads by a reviewer’ and go back to the editing? What’s the proper writerly etiquette?