ALTHOUGH Mars in your sign is a little more edgy than you would like, this cosmic bad boy is doing you a whole load of favours. He’s suggesting you have nothing to fear but fear itself and is pushing you further than you have gone before. Scary isn’t it.

Why yes, yes it is. I’ve never played well outside of my comfort zone (I usually follow, and rarely lead – even though I’d rather lead, but not really – oh, the brainpain!). Tomorrow, or later today really, is the first full day I’ll be putting in as Editor in Chief of LBF Books. I’ve gone over the paperwork, I’ve sorted the files and started (but not finished) cleaning. I always clean before starting something big, just to settle in well.

I know Carole, Louise, Gio and LeeAnn wouldn’t have been behind me if they didn’t think I could do the job. I’m looking forward to working with the authors and other editors in a different capacity than I have been. I know I can do the job, deep down, I know this. I know I’m good at finding what’s going to be a good book (picking a winner from a slush pile)… four former clients are now publishing with either Lachesis or LBF. Four, out of six.

I think I was fine until I shared the news with my mother – and once again she tried to avoid the conversation by turning the tv on, interrupting me five or six times, not grasping that this is a big deal. She scoffs, saying it’ll just be another fold-up with no pay in a few months. She proceeds to tell me how publishing *really* works. She – told – me. Her biggest concern with this promotion of mine? That because I don’t have the formal education that some do, that I have had to learn everything on my own – in secret, because of her disapproval of everything – I’ll fail, and it will make her look bad. That I won’t have a ‘real’ job.

This is a woman who once started writing a real good romance (Harlequin like) then stopped because ‘no one will buy it.’ This is a woman who can write some amazing poetry sometimes – but refuses to do it because ‘no one will buy it.’ This is a woman whose reading repertoire runs from classics like Catherine Cookson and Frank Yerby to literally hundreds upon hundreds of Harlequin novels. Oh, let’s throw the James Patterson in there, too.

Here’s how it went on Tuesday:

Carole gets in touch with the offer.
I feign thinking about while squeeing with glee into my pillow, so as not to disturb the neighbor.
I accept.
I tell Louise.
I phone Ariadne/Lorna and tell her.
I tell Jason, Gill and Deb at Apex.
I post to teh interweb.
I tell my girls (hey, they were at school, or I’d have told them first).
I tell my brothers (neither of whom tell my mother).
I tell a few friends who don’t have regular interweb access.
I tell CeilingCat.
I tell Schteve (who promises flowers in future..LOL).

That’s all within a few hours. I told my mother at 7 PM Saturday night.

Comfort zone. I haz one. She’s not in it.