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!