I try not to dwell on regrets, I've long accepted the fact that nothing good comes from such negativity, as long as you learn something.
However, one of my biggest regrets - from which the main thing I've learned is my natural-born laziness is one of my most self-sabotaging traits - is never following up on the letter I received in September, 2002, from Hodder & Stoughton.
I'd always quite fancied myself as something of a writer and, at that time, had what I thought was a pretty decent idea for a novel.
So, I drafted a synopsis and sent it off to Hodder & Stoughton, having carefully picked them out from the Writers' & Artists' Yearbook as being a publisher that might be interested in my idea.
I got a letter back on July 31 asking for three sample chapters.
These were written and dispatched and then, on September 11, 2002, I got a letter back from the submissions editor.
You can read the important information below:
It was an amazingly positive way to say " no, thank you, but..." and I should have been encouraged by the letter.
You know what I did with it? What thriller project I wrote next to send to the publishers?
Nothing.
Sweet Fanny Adams.
Nada.
Zilch.
Honestly, now, I have no idea why, except, I expect I was distracted by drink, girls, TV, cinema, the usual ephemeral nonsense that catches my fickle attention.
I'm not printing this letter to say: "Look at me, what a great writer I am", nor am I seeking any sympathy (as there was no one to blame but myself).
Rather I want to emphasise what an idiot I was.
This is a lesson to all you young whippersnappers out there, to my godson Alec and his sister Bettany, to Paul's girls, and all the children of this blog's readers: don't be like me.
When life gives you lemons, don't file them away then go to the store and buy lemonade.
Take advantage of every opportunity that comes your way.
Carpe Diem!
At the very least, I should have used that letter to try and get myself an agent... which in turn could have kept me better focused on my professed desire to become a published author.
The damage my stroke did to my concentration - and other aspects of my brain - pretty much guarantees this ship has sailed, but if any good is to come from all this, I want it to stand as an object lesson that others can learn from.
The galling thing about my gross stupidity - and laziness - is the number of films I continue to see that feature ideas very similar to the ones I had way back in my proto-novel with the working title of The Donner Project.