I have often been accused of having a 'glass is half empty' mentality. This, I tell myself, is a good defence mechanism -- pessimists are rarely disappointed, where as optimists frequently need a punch in the throat.
But on this occasion I'm going to force a smile and say that the glass is half full... Though half full of what is open to debate.
You see, as Mr James kindly pointed out, I now have three opportunities for ego-crushing defeat. Not content with having no chance in hell of winning a Derringer (Daphne McAndrews and the Smack-head Junkies), or a snowball's chance at Satan's birthday barbecue of hoopling off with the Theakstons Old Peculier Crime Novel of the Year (Cold Granite) I'm now in the position to not win something else! Hurrah!
Yes, your bearded and slightly smelly protagonist has been shortlisted for the Dagger in the Library, which according to the bumph on the CWA website is not for a single book, but for a 'body of work'. Eh? Looking at the other people on that shortlist I think I can safely say that their bodies are much more... well, not 'big', because that sounds like I'm calling them all fatties, but they've got many more books in print than I do. All of which are much better than my ones.
I'm currently consoling myself with the thought that nominations are a good thing, and not just an opportunity to get your hopes up and then kick you in the testicles. Then stand about laughing as you vomit all over your nice dress shoes. *ahem*
Personally I think the only way I'm going to walk off with any sort of award is by beating up the real winner in the toilets after the ceremony and then running like hell. Possibly shouting, "FIRE!" just to cause some confusion.
But don't let that stop you from stuffing the ballot box in every Waterstones, or CLICKING HERE every day and pretending to be someone's elderly relative who really loves COLD GRANITE.
Well, a boy can dream, can't he?
* For those of you playing along at home, the glass contains: water; mud; some nettles; bits of dead hedge; three poisoned slugs; and a couple of ex-bees courtesy of Grendel.
Labels: Broken Skin, Cold Granite, Dying Light, ego, Stuff about me, WTF