|Posted by Sandi Bischoff on October 28, 2010 at 4:23 PM|
I always thought I had a story in me. I don’t know what makes me think I can make it in the writing business, I just have to try. I mean, I’m no different than anyone else on the New York Times best seller list. They all had to start somewhere. Most of them sat exactly where I currently am today, querying left and right waiting for that invitation.
After all, I write online all the time and friends go out of their way to tell me how talented I am. “You should write a book” they say. To which I now reply “been there, done that.” Only problem is I don’t have any takers. The Agents and Publishers I submit my queries and samples to kindly send back the “Thanks but we don’t think this is the right fit for us at this time. We wish you luck in your writing career.” Blah blah blah… Rejection after rejection, little by little they chip away at your confidence and soul until you are an empty shell, still writing.
But for whom?
Obviously I’ll write for me, for the pure enjoyment of creating new worlds and characters who are there simply for me. But is there really a market out there for my stuff? Will anyone ever take that chance on me?
If I don’t try I’ll never know.
So here I sit countless hours out of the day staring at my laptop. Clothes wait to be laundered, dishes pile up forgotten in the sink and the dog hair tumbleweeds slowly drift aimlessly across the hardwood floor. All while I sit here and put heart and soul into a story that is as important to me as my family. In fact I think of each character as a member of my family. Too bad they only exist in my head or trapped in a computer and thumb drive waiting for their moment to shine. For when they finally find their way to paper my hope is that they will join someone else’s family. Maybe then they won’t feel so alone, because that’s what they are right now, alone.
Until that one special person finally takes a chance on me. I know they are out there. I just have to find them.