Archive for June 11th, 2008

No, I’m not talking about my husband’s middle age crisis and resulting fallout, even though one reader … someone called Chris something, and I’m guessing is male … sent me a snotty comment that said with all the compassion and eloquence one might expect from someone taking the time to post, “Gee Sandra. Whine much?” in response to my last post.

This is a different kettle of fish altogether.

A couple of Friday evenings ago, my phone rang. On the other end of the line was a British journalist/broadcaster/agent interested in my work, my story, my favorite flavor of ice cream … whatever … wanting to speak to me about the potential of working together to get something going professionally that would be to our mutual benefit.

Now, the last time I got a lit agent it took me over 100 query letters before I was signed, so having a call out of the blue seems a much less frustrating way to go about promoting my work off-island, and considering the price of postage from here, a screaming deal since he was paying for the call. His staff has been following my writing and he apparently feels there’s merit to my output. Goodie.

Now the “word gets around bit” that illustrates island life so well.

He’s in England, right? He knows I live in Seychelles and write on the Net, so Googles me and learns I used to work for Paradise FM radio, a division of SBC (Seychelles Broadcasting Company) … and, by the way, I may be going back there for a one-day-a-week show … so he phones SBC.

They know me, yes, but no one he finds has my phone number. One person, however, happens to know that the kids and I regularly eat out Friday evenings at local cafe. He calls there and speaks to the owner, who after some fairly intense questioning decides to pass along my home number.

Five minutes later, my phone is ringing and our conversation begins.

Can you imagine this happening in any other country? Yes, it is a small world, but this island is still special in so many ways.

By the way, he’s still phoning and we’re talking, so there may be more to this story developing over time. Fingers crossed, please, that this is light at the end of one tunnel, not the headlight of an approaching train.

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