Once more into the breach, once more to submit our wares.  

And so, it continues.

Validation is again sought.

A glutton for punishment?

Possibly.

The email inbox dance resumed.

Nothing today, maybe tomorrow?

It is masochistic, it is a bizarre relationship with the Id and ego, but it is one that unifies all scribblers of tall tales.

We want to be read, we want to be appreciated, but mostly we just want to be read – the plaudits and five-star ratings will be nice, but primarily we just desperately need to be read!

So, the near impossible one-page synopsis sent.

The letter of introduction crafted, and chapters 1-3 polished as much as our skill permits to whet the appetite, to compel the reader to ask for more – these too we have sent.

We are simple folk, our demands are not (yet) for world domination, they are simple, our manifesto uncomplicated, our plea to St. Francis de Sales that he will intercede on our behalf…

“Please sir may we have some more, may we read the rest of your manuscript”?

Nothing in today’s inbox, maybe tomorrow?

Maybe tomorrow…