I have this fantasy of being an author. Not like J.K Rowling level, because I’m not that big of a dreamer, but reaching the published level would be pretty cool.
I don’t need to be rich.
(Okay, I kind of want to be rich).
But really, I just want to write books that kind of, sort of, don’t 100% suck. Maybe even books that people read. I’ve written a few novels over the past couple of years. One, in particular, I’m insanely passionate about. It’s one of those ‘I’ve put my heart and soul and fears into the pages’ sort of books. I’ve submitted queries, I’ve destroyed my sanity attempting to craft the perfect synopsis, and I’ve even thought out interview responses to the inevitable “What made you write this book?” question.
The query process isn’t fun.
In fact, it sort of makes you want to curl in a ball and cry, and then throw your phone/laptop out your three-story window.
But, I’ve never been a quitter. Here I am, a wannabe author who has written a novel she is passionate about, unable to find an agent to represent it (because apparently you need an agent). Does this mean I should just give up? Yes? No? Sigh.
After my last round of rejections (or no responses at all), I started to consider self-publishing. In this glorious world of ebooks, self-publishing sounds downright doable. I’m not going to stop querying my other projects, but the idea of a book I’m so passionate about sitting hidden away in a file on my computer is tormenting.
So. To self-publish?