Frustration, I wear it like a suit, but the jacket fits too tightly, and there’s lead inside my boots…

Those of a certain age and MOD persuasion will recognise the quoted lyrics from the Purple Hearts – cries of teen angst still relevant in my middle-aged years.

The message remains unchanged, if not the source.

The journey into published authorship [is that a real word?] has been a long and troublesome one that has still to find fruition.

I’ve made innumerable errors with submissions, offered up works that were far from suitable.  Tales that needed more than just a bit of spit and polish to shine up a few dull patches.

Delusion hasn’t been the illusion, but I have been naïve.

Optimistic by outlook, pessimistic by result – something like that.

I genuinely believe that Amy Grace: Thomas Payne is a good tale – that it is worthy of time invested to read it, yet it sits as a secret known only to a precious few.

It’s not supposed to be like that, it just isn’t.

Applying to Agents is hard – it is.  I’m not complaining, I’m just stating a fact.

The emotional investment in selection, applying and then waiting and waiting for the eventual reward of a silent rejection takes its toll on even the most hardened of folk. 

This isn’t a pity party – we don’t go there.

But we do acknowledge the drain of it all.

It’s not a victory to have applied – it’s not.

Triumph doesn’t sit with the ignored applications – it’s just not there.

Dogged perseverance does.

So too does faith.

But frustration sits above them all!

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