Becoming a writer has been a life-long dream. And, the thing is, I am a writer. An unpublished writer. Ugh.
I’ve blogged here and at Bookmarks. I’ve written short stories and a children’s novel.
More recently, I followed my heart and wrote what I love: a romance novel. A Regency to be exact. I have a shaky platform and virtually no writing credentials – at least none that publishing houses would take seriously.
So I have edited my manuscript, sculpted it by using every bit of research on editing I can find. And, I am so very proud of the final product.
Except, it’s as ready as I can make it. With numerous beta-reads, proof-reads, editing for continuity of character, plot, theme, setting and dialogue, there’s not much more I can do.
Now I face the prospect of publishing – which strangely enough has had me stuck for the past two months. I’ve used the excuse of summer holidays and busyness with the family to delay the inevitable. School’s back in. I’m working part-time – I have the time to see my dream through.
The choice now seems to send it off for more rejection letters OR perhaps, I will finally dive and tread my way through the self-publishing sea.
I believe it will be the latter for me.