Last week’s rejection got me thinking. What would I do if I were filthy rich? Would I still write? (you know- in between traveling and eating out a different restaurant for breakfast, lunch and dinner? )
Would I still pursue an agent?
I suppose being richer than God (as my father would say) could facilitate the process. I could fly to every writer’s conference all over the world until they finally get sick of me and offer to take on my book. Or bribe someone.
But would I do it? Or would I hold out for true love?
And what about self publishing? If I had the money to publish my own books, market them, buy publicity and pay to have them put on the shelves at all the leading stores would I do it?
And the answers I came up with were pretty surprising:
YES, of course I would do it!
But really, I would write no matter what. It’s become a part of who I am.
And truth be told it brings me joy when others read my work and fall in love with the characters I’ve spent so much time with. It’s like every person who reads them makes them more real.
Do I think my books are worthier than any others that are already in print or about to be published?
But I do think they ARE worthy. They have worth and they’re entertaining in their own right.
If I believe in them- I have to believe they’re worthy enough to earn their own agent, own publisher, own readers without money being thrown around.
Even if I end up old and grey before this happens. (which is looking like a serious possibility at this point)
It’s like the situation in day-time soap operas where the rich corporate boss pays people off to accept his kid in their elite school/club/law firm.
The kid is always so pissed when he finds out.
Because it’s like their father didn’t believe they had what it took to begin with. And even though my books won’t slam the door in some dramatic exit if they discover their editor received a private donation, it’s still a disservice I don’t think I’d be willing to do them.
What about you? What would you do if you were a rich girl or a ‘reech mahn?’ (Is it just me, or did that come out sounding Jamaican? I was going for fiddler on the roof Russian. Oh well. Off to study how to write dialects…)