I don’t post that often for a reason. I certainly don’t Twitter, don’t have a Facebook profile, I’m not on MySpace or any other social networking site. Why? I have to write novel after novel after novel after novel after novel after novel after novel after novel. Not just the first three chapters like in the ‘50's, ‘60's, ‘70's and ‘80's, but entire novels. Many agents have been burned by writers submitting three chapters, and when the full novel was requested, either the writer couldn’t deliver a finished novel, or delivered shit for a finished novel. Agents today will not consider a submission unless the novel behind it is finished, polished to a high shine finished. Print it out and mail it finished. You can see for yourself I don’t have time to Tweet jack or profile squat, because I’m too busy writing another novel I hope my potential agent will like. Now, I can guess at publishing trends, based on information gathered from various sources, but I try to write stories I would enjoy reading. Trends never explain those four to five books each year that buck everyone’s expectations to sell in phenomenal numbers, worldwide. Risking everything, does. It’s all about risk.

Think about it from my perspective. I decide to write something that excites me personally. I love the idea behind the novel. I’m motivated to do my best from start to finish. Months pass. I’m done. I just spent an undetermined number of months taking a huge risk with my newly finished novel. I spent hours upon hours on my query letter, synopsis, my sample pages, and the answer from all the agents I submit to is no. I don’t fit. Somehow I don’t fit. On to the next novel. I decide to write something that excites me personally. I love the idea behind the novel. I’m motivated to do my best from start to finish. Months pass. I’m done. I just spent an undetermined number of months taking a huge risk with my newly finished novel. I spent hours upon hours on my query letter, synopsis, my sample pages, and the answer from all the agents I submit to is no. I don’t fit. Somehow I don’t fit. On to the next novel. I decide to write something that excites me personally. I love the idea behind the novel. I’m motivated to do my best from start to finish. Months pass. I’m done. I just spent an undetermined number of months taking a huge risk with my newly finished novel. I spent hours upon hours on my query letter, synopsis, my sample pages, and the answer from all the agents I submit to is no. I don’t fit. Somehow I don’t fit. On to the next novel. I decide to write something that excites me personally. I love the idea behind the novel. I’m motivated to do my best from start to finish. Months pass. I’m done. I just spent an undetermined number of months taking a huge risk with my newly finished novel. I spent hours upon hours on my query letter, synopsis, my sample pages, and the answer from all the agents I submit to is no. I don’t fit. Somehow I don’t fit. On to the next novel. I decide to write something that excites me personally. I love the idea behind the novel. I’m motivated to do my best from start to finish. Months pass. I’m done. I just spent an undetermined number of months taking a huge risk with my newly finished novel. I spent hours upon hours on my query letter, synopsis, my sample pages, and the answer from all the agents I submit to is no. I don’t fit. Somehow I don’t fit. On to the next novel. I decide to write something that excites me personally. I love the idea behind the novel. I’m motivated to do my best from start to finish. Months pass. I’m done. I just spent an undetermined number of months taking a huge risk with my newly finished novel. I spent hours upon hours on my query letter, synopsis, my sample pages, and the answer from all the agents I submit to is no. I don’t fit. Somehow I don’t fit.

Six novels in the above paragraph. Six risks that went nowhere. Years of my life down, me taking huge risks, and I don’t fit. I’m not right. On to the next novel. I decide to write something that excites me personally. I love the idea behind the novel. I’m motivated to do my best from start to finish. Months pass. I’m done. I just spent an undetermined number of months taking a huge risk with my newly finished novel. I spent hours upon hours on my query letter, synopsis, my sample pages, and the answer from all the agents I submit to is?

I’m willing to take that risk. I’m a writer. It’s who I am.

I have a few wild ideas in my head, damn good ideas from my perspective as a reader, and I read a lot of books. Half the books I read are okay. Very few leave me geeking. And that’s the point. What am I willing to risk, and is my risk going to pay off?