Well, you already know I love your writing.  To be honest, it’s so much crisper than mine — I’m hoping I can figure out how to do it. 

For me, anyway, the whole publishing thing really feels like work.  And I already have a job that I’m actually good at.  Now that I’m being a little clearer about my motivations, the idea of taking that second job doesn’t really appeal to me.  Even if the writing is good enough — and I don’t know that it is — I’d still rather just give it away.

Presently, I’m waiting for the rejection slip for Dajoën, so I can post it here and remove it from my list of things to worry about.  Because, frankly, if I get an acceptance slip instead, it will end up being only the beginning of my worry. 

Thanks for reading and commenting, BTW — I appreciate it.

Chris.

I know I have to.  I want to teach college level writing.  That means I have to finish this degree, track down at least one, maybe two, more, and publish.  And find a university that’s hiring.

And my best friend offered to help me out with publishing “when I’m ready for it.” He’s helpful in that sort of regard, what with having, basically, my dream job and knowing plenty of people.

But I’m having a hell of a time with “ready for it.” I’ve got two not-entirely-finished novelettes, a novel that I hit a brick wall on and then haven’t had time to go fix (I mucked up my climax by asking the impossible of it), and loads of short stories (my happy place, where I’m comfortable, where I can bang out a finished piece before ADD kicks in).  It’s not like I don’t have material.

I’m just still stuck in a place where I firmly believe that the publishing world is this:

The Shakespeare Island.

It’s this little elitist club consisting of the best writers of all time, and you can’t get there without an invitation, and even if you get an invitation, you still have to cross shark-infested waters, lethal reefs, and storms to get there; and once you get there, you’re going to look around at your competition, say “I’m not as good as Shakespeare” and want to escape.

Bless blogs for giving me readership without an inferiority complex.  The end.