Sunday, January 15, 2017


Let me say this: Someone who says that anyone can write a book is just plain wrong. Because even if you write the book, every time you open that file on your computer, you think, "What can I do to make this better?" and you're sucked into a vortex or time warp and hours pass and then, you have a new version which could be better, or maybe you actually made it worse, but you can't know for sure until readers actually read it; and even then, after you've gotten fabulous comments from friends, you must find an agent, relying on one little devil of a query letter. You wait and hope and pray and get comfortable with rejection and ask yourself, "Why in the hell am I doing this?" and the only answer you have, because you don't have a published book in hand, is that you love it, love it, love it and can't see not writing, ever. And I think if you don't love it, it's harder to go through all of that and not fold like the proverbial house of cards. So back to the computer I go...

(And thanks for listening. I feel much better now.)

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