As an un-published writer the road is very often long, extremely lonely, depressing and demoralising, to say the least.
We are bouyed a little by our well-intentioned friends who assume that our attempts will be published by the end of next week and that we will be buying a new suit to receive the prizes that are undoubtedly coming our way. The reality, however, is a file of rejection notes with not a word of advice, encouragement or even a 'look dear, maybe writing is not quite the thing for you, take up crochet'.
What joy then, what heartfelt, sincere, pat-on-the-back kind of things do I feel for someone who has had a small, but significant, boost to his writing ego. No, it wasn't a contract on a plate from a slathering agent, nor was it an offer to publish by a top house. It was encouragement, advice and praise from the respected Lynne W. Scanlon (The Publishing Contrarian). Who took the time and effort to read, digest and critique, and in doing so lifted a man's spirits so that he regained the will to fight for what he believes in - his baby, HIS BOOK.
So I celebrate PUNDY, (with balloons that may scare you to death) as you set your book (A Half Life of One) once more on the rough and unpredictable seas towards eventual publication.
I know it!!
5 comments:
Oh, Minx, what can I say. You've got me in tears again - tears of happiness this time.
Thanks, thanks and thanks again. You know I mean it.
Oh yes, yes, nuff of that, how much have you done?
Scary balloons!
But good on Lynne, she's ace.
And good luck to Pundy -- however long it takes, I wish you well.
I can remember my nan's friend getting a ladder out and climbing right to the top to get a balloon down from the ceiling in the school where they worked as cleaners. After all the hoo-haa over getting it down, when she gave it to me I burst into tears because it had a picture of a monkey on it and that scared me. It was one of those PG Tips monkey's so I suppose the balloons must've been some kind of advertising ploy.
Bloody things have given me nothing but trouble since. The number of kids that have gone home from parties crying because they didn't like the sound of them bursting even though the idea was to burst them to get the sweets out that I'd stuffed inside them before blowing them up. Well it seemed like a good idea at the time.
You're weird!
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