|Reading this might have saved me embrassment.|
Note to Self,
You wrote a book, but what do you know about writing a book? You set a deadline, and four-hundred single-spaced pages later, you met it. You proved to yourself you could chase an idea for longer than a short story, that a couple-few hours in the morning were enough to eventually have a mountain of words.
Why oh why did you have to show it to people? Friends and family, maybe, maybe, but people in publishing? If you want a part in Clint Eastwood’s next movie, you don’t send him a tape of the play your high school drama club did.
Two megabytes spent on the same story, .97 megabytes after your deadline, you finally began a draft you can be proud of... couldn’t you have waited a couple of years?
Oh, well. Screw ‘em if they can’t suffer an amateur misstep.
You recover beautifully.
Not in the Buying Office Forever