I have been writing fiction for as long as I could hold a pen and always wanted to be a writer. But then computers happened and getting an interesting job was a

I have been writing fiction for as long as I could hold a pen and always wanted to be a writer. But then computers happened and getting an interesting job was as easy for me as snapping my fingers. In my early thirties I realized that unless I did something drastic, I was never going to be a writer. So I enrolled in a four year creative writing course. (Creative writing is not routinely taught in college here.) The place had a tough selection policy and was run by established writers with editors and publishers. It is probably the best place in my country to build a network and get noticed. I did get indeed noticed and published a few short stories in a reputable magazine. Then the publisher (which is one of the most prestigious in the country) had a sit-down with me and told me they really liked my work but they wanted to see something more substantial, which is thinly veiled code for a novel. It was a come-on as big as they come in the literary world. And I fucked it up. I never took them up on their offer. I did not even try and write that book. After a while my contacts dried up and the window of opportunity closed. Nowadays when I send something to that particular publisher it ends up in the slush pile of uninvited manuscripts (of which they receive over a thousand yearly). I don't blame them, but I do regret it.