Come August I will have been writing seriously for exactly 8 years. When I say seriously, I mean with publication in mind.
In those 8 years I have found some successes in the form of contest wins, short story publications, and this blog. Yes I count my blog as a success. How could I not when I am fortunate enough to have so many of you come back to read and offer your comments on a nearly daily basis.
Despite the above mentioned successes, I have still failed in my main objective. To publish a novel. At this point I have failed to so much as acquire an agent. Eight years in an in some way i feel like I'm farther away than I was even a few years ago.
It seems to be harder to get agents to request material than it was even a couple of years ago. If only the publishing business fell in with horseshoes and hand grenades ... because I have been close. Matter of fact my very first novel a romance did catch the eye of an editor that I met at a conference. She requested the full manuscript and then asked for rewrites. She then took my novel to their acquisition meeting where the marketing team nixed it on the grounds I brought nothing special to the table as far as helping it stand out among the crowded shelves. that same editor also liked my third novel enough to ask for rewrites, but those revisions failed to excite her the way she'd hoped.
And once upon a time I engaged in a series of phone calls when an agent. That particular agent and I met at a workshop where I read a few chapters aloud for her. She told me that my writing was much stronger as long as my speaking voice and Texas accent remained strong in her mind but as they faded from her memory the novel lost a bit of it's charm and flavor. she said unfortunately editors and ultimately readers would never have the experience of me reading it for them so she was going to have to pass. That phone conversation literally broke my writers heart, but my spirit and determination remained strong.
But now even they have began to wane. is till love to write every bit as much as I ever did, but the shadows of doubt have infected my brain . this year has been tough. finding time to create and tell stories has been tough. Getting anyone in the business to actually read my words has been tough and for the first time I've begun to question my abilities. Don't get me wrong. I think I am a good writer, actually I realize that I am a much better storyteller than writer. Not to sound conceited but I believe myself to be a damn good storyteller and a pretty decent writer.
The problem is I may not be good enough. Evidence indicates that may be the case. Or maybe I simply have not hit upon a story idea good enough to put me over the edge. Either way, whether it's my talent, or ability to create a compelling enough plot, I somehow have to find a way to improve, or face the fact that some dreams never come true.
I'm not ready to quit dreaming, so I guess I better get to improving because 8 years from now I dang sure don't want to be whining about this very same thing in yet another post.