From previous blogs, if you've read them, you will have the idea by now that I wasn't holding out too much hope for ever seeing my first novel published. Instead, I was deflecting my daydreams to anywhere else but writing. On a day at work that didn't seem out of the ordinary, I received the message by email, congratulating me on being shortlisted for the publishing prize. Interesting to note the workings of my mind at this point. Don't get be wrong, I was buoyed by the news that I was one of seven finalists, but this wasn't a big publishing house that was running the competition; it was in embryonic form. My next thought was that there must have been, maybe ten submissions in the competition. Poor other three, I thought with a smidgen of arrogance, at least I'd beaten them.