It’s bloody hard. There is no other way to put it, looking for an agent/publisher is one of the most painful and frustrating things I have put myself through so far. Because writing the novel has been fairly easy, I naively thought that getting it published would be too. HA!
The publishing industry is in big trouble and the future looks even bleaker than the current scenario. Still, mainstream agents (the ones that work with the big publishing houses) receive about 300 submissions a week. Even if I were to write like Ernest Hemingway, the chances of finding an agent and getting a book deal are infinitesimal.
Sometimes it’s hard not to chuck it all into a drawer, slam the thing shut and give up. Of course, I won’t. Not yet. I decided to dedicate Friday mornings only to finding an agent. I know that this means it will roughly take until the end of the year to get through my list, but it also means that the frustration will only hit me in small doses, leaving time and energy to focus on ideas that are easier achievable.
Like coming up with something exciting for the blog this December:
Or dancing to Jingle Bells in July: