yevlax

Just Like Killin' A Man, It Gets Easier Every Time.


Writing novels. That's what I'm talking about.

I've went back to finish the second one I've started, which will be the third one finished, when I'm done. That may sound impressive, but its actually still within the range of an amatuerish effort. Stories about an author writing one book and becoming an instant household name after a first submission are so rare that I can't come up with one. I was about to call out Stephanie Myers, but after a quick wikipedia check it appears she was rejected no less than fourteen times before her sorrid tale got a wave of batshit crazy to drown her in dollars for her efforts. JK Rowling got rejected twenty-five or so times.

"Are we ever going to get to read these flippin' books?" <- I get asked that a lot. The answer is 'eventually'. The first two are pretty bad, now that I've set them down and cooled off. Especially the one I just wrote for NaNoWriMo. Good lord, that wasn't a novel, it was a catharthic experiment into personal fetishes and anger management. With shapeshifters tacked on. I may get back to it later.

I feel out of love with those books, although we're still friends. The Fetch still calls me late at night, but I'm keeping her at a distance. Enough time has passed from my first novel girlfriend that Dragon Bass can come over and watch cartoons with me while complaining about her lack of publishment. All while I've got my eye on someone new...

I made up a rule for unpublished authors; don't fall in love with a book. I can't afford to fall in love with a book. Not yet, anyway. I know how this is going to go. I'm going to bust my ass on this book, my first without NaNoWriMo breathing down my neck, and its going to be the most outstanding thing I've ever wrote. Then I have to let people read it. Then I have to let people edit it, too. That's going to cause a few little stabs in the aorta. Just a few few. See, Dragon Bass was like losing my virginity (I just wanted to see if I could do it!), and The Fetch was a reckless fling.

And then, after I've toughened myself up from the first wave of criticism, I'll send it off. And I am no JK Rowling, so the rejections will number many more than twenty-five. I'm sure those agents and publishers are overworked as it is, I'm got to find some way to make them notice when the time comes. A gimmick, perhaps? Something crazy? It's not like I haven't done that before. This will take years. I might even be well again by the time this book gets sold.

Don't fall in love with your novel, Joey, just don't. Keep it cool. Keep it smooth. Finish the damned thing and get it out there. People want to read your 'alleged novel'. They will pay five bucks for an Amazon download or whatever it is, and you may even see print if you keep up the persistence.

My first published novel that people will pay money for. The Horsemans Last Ride.

Did you know I'm up to fifteen pills a day now?