I wonder if Hamlet, were he alive now and sitting around with a complete manuscript (genre fiction, really depressing mystery, complete at 82,000 words) have wondered the same thing.
I’ve been pondering this a lot lately and I’ll tell you why. Waiting is a killer. Waiting around for the gatekeepers to give me a yay or a nay while still moving forward with new work is hard, harder than writing and editing the manuscript itself.
Honestly, I don’t do waiting as well as I did when I was younger. Is that a shallow answer? Maybe, but waiting is a very frustrating experience, at least for me. It tends to eat away at my concentration, leaving me kinda’ irritable. I don’t like feeling irritable. Just ask my husband.
There is more to self-publishing, though, than just fulfilling an immediate desire to see your work out there. There’s the hope that as…
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