Let’s all pretend my novel is like the Harry Potter series, getting all rejected eleven times before it gets picked up by a publisher and BAM! Instant millionaires all round. Not that I am in it or the money or anything. Just the pure love of writing and shit. Yeah. Let’s say that. I sent it to one of the few publishers in Australia you can send unsolicited material to. If I don’t hear from them by Friday? Too bad so sad for me.
I know why I haven’t been blogging. (Have I ever told you how I detest bloggers who blog about blogging?)
It’s like this. I gave my novel to a few people to peruse. Only two people finished it; one of which who read it and returned it with timely feedback is a fellow ‘writer’. She has to be all supportive and excited so that writing karma doesn’t bite her on the ass. The most the other person said was, ‘It’s better than some of the stuff I have seen published.’ As for everyone else? I can only conclude that, well – I can’t even say it. I try to pretend not to care but sometimes the thoughts creep in, catch me unaware and it is crushing.
Before you get all, ‘Send it me! I’ll read it!’ that is what the non-finishers said too. I don’t want to add you to that list. It’ll just embarrass us both.
But, like. Whatever. I am still going to write. Soon. Because I love it.
I really do.