Sunday, August 8, 2010

Nobody ever told me how hard it was to sell a book!

I had written a masterpiece of mystery literature, I was sure of it. The characters -- especially the heroine (mother of seven, writer of a weekly newspaper column, stealthy detective) was cagey, curious and open to adventure. When a dead body is found in her garage, she has to find the real killer before the police arrest her husband for the crime. With the help of her children, our feisty homemaker defies incredible odds -- and quite a few laws of nature -- in her quest for justice. The exciting, action packed climax of the novel is nothing short of miraculous! And, according to the numerous rejection slips clogging my mailbox, impossible to believe.

Any of you who have poured your heart and soul into attempting that first novel, will understand my disappointment and feelings of failure. Firmly entrenched on my pity-pot, I contemplated the injustice of it all. After all, my newspaper column had been an almost instant success, which had foolishly -- and far too prematurely -- led me to consider myself a professional writer. A humbling revelation!

As ever more rejection slips arrived in my mailbox, my newspaper editor continued to pressure me to agree to syndicate my PENNY PINCHER column. It would mean more money and more exposure. But did I really want to make this a full-time career?

(Tuesday: Playing in a church guitar group changes the direction of my life)


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