Untitled

Like most writers, I wander over to the Amazon site on a semi-regular basis to see how my books are doing ... Then, "Never mind," I tell myself, and rise above it. (Like a large goose trying to take off from a pond, I rise above things like this by sheer effort rather than with any discernible ease or grace.)

But one of the things that I have found under my name on Amazon.co.uk is a small collection of books that I didn't, in fact, write. "The At Risk Child" is an example. The Joan M. Lennon who wrote that must be really peeved to have it sharing a list with The Ferret Princess and The Bad-Tempered Dragon. Lacking in gravitas, you'd have to say.

And then there's the book by me that doesn't even exist.

Untitled, it's called. It has an ISBN and everything. No publisher, sadly.

I used to be cross about this book, until recently it struck me that the entry wasn't an inefficency so much as a vote of confidence. Amazon was saying, "We're so convinced you've got another new book in the pipeline that we've reserved a space for it already. And an ISBN. We love you - and we just can't wait!" It is the slot for every book I ever wrote that the publishers didn't want. And every book I'm currently writing. And every book I will be writing this time next year or next decade.

Nice. Thank you, Amazon!

Cheers, Joan.