Holy shit. How literate, but HOLY SHIT!
Ever since I started “seriously” writing (and what exactly that means is another ten thousand or so blog entries – so, just go with me here) ALL I HAVE DREAMED OF is being eligible to win the Man Booker Prize. Every year – for years – I have read the books on its short list and its winner and FANTASIZED about being from a country from which writers were eligible.
Here’s the thing. Once I realized I would never be winning a Tony Award as Best Actor in a Musical – which took me FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR longer to accept than one might imagine – the ONLY THING I WANTED was a Man Booker. Which was GREAT. Because – no matter whether or not I ever managed to GET my novel published – I wasn’t going to be eligible.
Uhm. Damn. The. Luck. Now I will be eligible NEVER to win the Man Booker too. Well, at least I’m failing up?