A month ago, through a twisty series of fortuitous events (to be disclosed forthwith), I landed a literary agent. A literary agent is the basic arterial component of traditional publishing. They pump the idea (book proposal) from the heart of the project (you) out into selected organs and limbs (publishing houses/imprints) for optimal distribution (into the hands of your target audience).
A literary agent is not the person who publishes your book. She is the person that gets your book published.
Many traditional publishing houses (organs) will not accept book proposals unless they are agented (arterially sufficient). I have an entire volume dedicated to “Finding a Literary Agent.” The fact that I might be able to sell it back on Amazon is nothing short of miraculous. I wanted to quit I can’t tell you how many times.
A.A. is not something I participate in. But I did for a time. And while it’s not great for some things, it is great for others. One being those trite cliches that stick in your head and annoy the piss out of you, not just for being redundant but because they turn out to be true.
Don’t quit before the miracle happens.
I hate it as much as I have come to believe in it. But this is an “I told you so” sandwich I’m willing to eat down.
I hope wherever you are in your process of dream-weaving, you’ll niggle it into your psyche somewhere safe and warm. Or at least stay open to the possibility and refuse to give up.
There’s a reason why the dream seed embeds itself into the soft tissue of your heart. There’s a reason why you can’t stop thinking about it, even though it makes no logical sense. None. What I’m about to reveal is living proof.
If you love a good story as much as I do, grab your Smart Pop and Reese’s Pieces and tune in tomorrow.
I love you all so much. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. I promise you that.
Love,
Rosie :)