Writing fiction is wrenching and emotional. On some days, writing a novel is a hateful task, on other days it’s your reason to breathe. It’s hard work, for sure. And once it is conceived and started, it becomes parasitic in nature until it is finished.
But now that I’ve finished one, there’s a new hurdle.
I’m expected to publish it. After all, that’s what writers do. Why else go through all that agony and insecurity, sleeplessness, doubt, guilt and shame?
I can’t say that publishing was my motivation for writing the novel. It wasn’t. The prime motivation was to leave my family something of the inner me. I’m already leaving property. Maybe (if I don’t end up in a nursing home) even some money. But a novel is another kind of inheritance. I’d argue that it’s a richer kind.
Even so, I’ve started sending it to agents and publishers.
If you don’t have contacts, this process is like shooting arrows into a fog, hoping for a kill. Even if you do, it can be chance. Or fate.
So I’m going to give it a year. Or more. And keep posting.
-
Archives
- November 2024
- May 2023
- December 2022
- April 2022
- October 2021
- August 2021
- June 2021
- March 2021
- January 2021
- June 2020
- April 2020
- March 2020
- February 2020
- January 2020
- April 2019
- February 2019
- June 2018
- May 2018
- April 2018
- March 2018
- January 2018
- April 2017
- March 2017
- February 2017
- January 2017
- August 2016
- February 2016
- November 2015
- August 2015
- July 2015
- June 2015
- May 2015
- February 2015
- January 2015
- December 2014
- November 2014
- September 2014
- August 2014
- May 2014
- April 2014
- March 2014
- February 2014
- January 2014
- December 2013
- November 2013
- October 2013
- August 2013
- July 2013
- May 2013
- April 2013
- February 2013
- January 2013
- December 2012
- November 2012
- October 2012
- September 2012
- August 2012
- July 2012
-
Meta
So, over a year later, were you successful?! I’ve been looking for an agent for a year for
my nonfiction book, and I am not half the writer you are!