In retrospect, yesterday’s post was a bad idea and very out of character. I had misgivings and hesitated before posting, but I ascribed those feelings to being “brave” and maybe even a bit “edgy” with my choice of topic.
Nope. Instead, it came across as a petulant, whinge-filled pity-fest served with a big side of “Buy my book and tell me it’s grand.”
Ew…and therefore…my apologies. That was not what I wanted to say, and that is not what I want this blog to be about.
Here’s what I want to say, instead.
People write books every day. A lot of those books–most of them, I’d wager–are flawed, ill-wrought, noisome, over-written turds of no literary merit what-so-ever.
Not all of those books are bad, though.
Some are good. Some are actually quite good. But even though that’s a fraction of a fraction, there are still more of those quite good books than there are slots on all the schedules of all the publishers in all the world. Ergo, most of those quite good books are not going to find a publisher.
It’s a fact. Publishing is a business, and each book is a risk. Publishers want a sure thing (or as close to it as they can get). They need to sell lots of books so they can publish more books.
Unraveling Time is a quite good book, but obviously it didn’t strike editors as a sure thing. Maybe it’s too literary for genre publishers, and too genre for literary publishers. In the end, the why doesn’t matter.
Writing is a crapshoot profession. You place your bets and put pen to paper and a year later the dice finally come to rest. Did you win? Did you lose?
With Unraveling Time, I lost my bets. It’s a really good book. I really like it and I’m proud as hell of it, but the dice came up midnight, so I lost. Sometimes it’s hard not to get depressed or bitter, but doing that serves no purpose. It’s best to just move on. I learned a lot writing Unraveling Time, and it shows.
Time to start a new book, and learn some more.