One of the oddest "being a writer" jobs is filling in forms about yourself for publishers! Today I've battled on, and finally completed sheets the patient and persistent publicity people have been sending. What a sense of relief!
When I'm working on my writing, the last thing I can think about is ten interesting facts about myself. Three might be pushing it, anyway! Have done nothing famous. Have no important relatives. Am not a previous actor, singer, celeb, didgeridoo player!
Makes me want to start fibbing my socks off. "Rumoured to be the daughter of heavy metal rockstar Rayman Agga Deadjaw, Penny ran away to the circus, and, before completing her PHD in Ancient Icelandic Rune Stones, was adopted by the famous LaRosa Flying Family, because of her skill on the trapeze, and for foiling the kidnap of the only white tiger reared in captivity . . ." See? I can do that stuff without much of a thought! It's all the exact facts and figures that are hard. Groan!
Still, the stuff is completed at last! All I have to do is copy it before I send it off so I can remember what on earth I said! And will I feel smug tomorrow when I cross it off my list! (Use of exclamation marks: 9. v. bad)