Yesterday I became British. One nationality’s just not enough, right? It involved paying the government around three weeks’ worth of wages, swearing allegiance to the Queen and all her successors, singing “God Save the Queen” and then going out for dim sum with my hubby and in-laws.
The whole time I was sitting in the Victorian registry building, I was mentally cataloging details of the room because that’s where the hero and heroine of my first manuscript get married.
I chose the location for their wedding nearly a year ago, and because I’d never been to the registry office, I skimmed on the details. So yesterday, instead of paying too much attention to a local dignitary’s speech on how wonderful it is to live in this borough, I was picturing my heroine breaking my hero’s heart on their wedding day.
That was yesterday. Today I got a call from Alaska to tell me that that very same scene placed second in the AKRWA Break-up contest.
How weird is that?