I sent out another--and the final--round of proposals and query letters for my third manuscript. If no one bites, then I’ll withdraw it.
Give up? No. That sounds defeatist.
What’s happened is I’ve run out of publishers to contact. After this last half–dozen there’s no house left which accepts unagented manuscripts.
So, get an agent, right? In theory, yes. But I am currently no one and I have a thin platform. Any agent I could get now is the kind of agent I should avoid.
So what I’ll do is take the hint. I’ll withdraw the manuscript from consideration and roll over the material into a newer, better, bigger, stronger and more dynamic book that’s sure to turn me into an overnight success. Or at least a properly published author.
Anyway, they’re off and all I can do is wait.
Meanwhile I gutted book four aka “The Book That Won't Get Writ" the other night.
By the time I’d finished deleting and cutting and pasting I’d pretty much busted it back down to rough draft.
I took out a hard copy. It’s maybe 50 pages single-spaced in Times New Roman. It ain’t much, but it’s a start.
How We Spoil Our Cats, December 2017 Edition
2 hours ago