The Perils of Finding a Publisher
Becoming a published author is a lot like turning down a pretty little tree-lined lane you’ve passed every day but never taken the time to explore. At first you are intrigued by this new path, curious as to where it will lead and certain you will be able to find your way back.
The first leg of your journey is all smooth roads and pretty scenery as you plot out the story that’s been flitting around in your mind for months or perhaps years. You stroll along when the words are flowing at a nice even pace, skip about when they are falling from your fingertips faster than you can type them, and stop to rest when you slam into a detour sign and the words simply disappear. But eventually you get back on the straight and narrow, or twisted and curvy if you are writing an erotic scene with hills and valleys and long legs twining and tangling.
Before you know it the end appears to be in sight, a sun-dappled park with a parade of publishers clamoring to accept your novel and a fountain overflowing with royalties.
Then you type those two little words.
The End.
And you realize you have not reached the end of your idyllic journey at all. No, you have arrived at the base of a mountain and to reach the summit you must traverse steep inclines, jump from jagged cliffs, and swim through a river of foamy rapids.
Writing a novel is a walk along a pretty little tree lined lane.
Finding someone, anyone with a desire to read your manuscript, let alone actually publish it, is a trek up Mount Kilimanjaro.