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The Next Novel


Even as my latest rejection letter arrives, I’m finishing up my fifth novel.  I have this sneaking suspicion that editors just don’t get me.  I’ve written (almost) five complete novels and only Vagabondage Press has given an inkling of encouragement.

Well, it may be that my writing sucks.  I’m willing to admit that as a possibility.  The problem is everyone from high school English teachers to professional writers say the opposite.  The editors, however, hold the keys.

My next novel is about the gods.  When Neil Gaiman writes a novel about gods it becomes a best seller.  I’ve spent a lifetime studying gods.  When I write such a novel, I’ll have a hard time getting a publisher even to open the email.  I won’t stop trying, though.  To be a writer, you’ve got to take the reins.

Those of us who write, do so because of who we are.  Those who get paid for their work are lucky, at first.  To be a writer “successfully” means writing what publishers are willing to buy.  Looking at Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey, it seems they spin out cash at the lowest common denominator.

Writing is an enterprise of the soul.  Some souls come cheap.  Others can’t be bought.  The internet has filled the writing world with noise a-plenty, and the distinctive voice is easily overlooked.  But ah, the editor is the one who decides.

I start writing every morning before 4 a.m.  I have been writing for over three decades.  If my publication records speaks for who I am, then I am a failure.  Somewhere deep in my soul I know the truth is that, in reality, I am a writer.


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