The other ‘arts’ have it so easy. It takes mere moments to pass
judgement on a piece of music, a photograph, or a painting. So, provided the
artist/e can get their work in front of the right person, they should get a yea
or nay in a matter of hours. Us writers, on the other hand, get to twiddle our
writing implements for what can sometimes amount to years (yes, really!) – a
few months ago I received an email from an agent saying: “I’m sorry it’s taken me a few weeks to get to your book, things do get
rather stacked up...” I couldn’t remember sending that particular agent
anything recently, and when I looked back through my emails I discovered I had
sent her my submission back in May 2011! I dutifully ignored her tardiness and
winged over the requested manuscript and, four months on, I have heard nothing.
In an ideal world, the fortunate recipient of your masterpiece would
snuggle down in a quiet room and devote several uninterrupted hours to
devouring it in all its splendour, before delivering a fair and hopefully
favourable verdict. In reality, it can be weeks before it’s read, and then it’s
likely to be whilst the reader juggles a million other commitments. Meanwhile,
you’re at home, or work, or play, trying not to think about how long it’s been
since they would have received your manuscript, and how much you’d like to
garrotte an effigy of them just so they might have some idea of the torture
you’re going through.
I was always baffled when reading articles about authors and their road
to success; how so many of them said it took years to get their book/s
published. I used to think, blimey, what the hell have you been doing with your
time? Clearly you’re not as dedicated and determined as me! Now I realise it
was because of their determination and dedication that they
were able to say, publicly, it took a long time but I finally did it,
as opposed to it took too long so I gave up.
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