I was so pleased to finally put my novel out there, and even more pleased when people started telling me it was good… Five star good even. (Apart from one. You know who you are) It had taken me the best part of seven years. That’s from the first moment I put pen to paper to the day I finally let it loose. Bearing in mind, I work almost 60 hours a week, have a six year old boy, and have, pretty much, a zero in literature education. So, not only did I have the up hill climb of even penning a novel, but I had to self educate myself on where everything was supposed to go and deal with the every day things we all have to endure. And, if I’m honest, I actually finished the book two years ago. Just couldn’t find the courage to tell anyone after all the knock-backs. I would sit and re-read it, over and over again. Change things round, remove things, add things. I sent it out to dozens of agents, all the best ones, and received only a handful of responses. All telling me the same thing. “That it wasn’t the right manuscript for them” So I abandoned it. I put it in a cupboard and forgot all about it. Even started another manuscript, completely different to the one I’d finished.
Wasn’t until about five months ago I came across it again and read it. Couldn’t understand why I had lost faith in it. Just because agents didn’t think it would work, doesn’t mean it was destined to fail.
So… whilst I was still in that frame of mind, I edited it one last time, had a cover designed, and posted it on Kindle.
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