Dear Desperate Author;
I’ve seen your book. I’ve seen the cover splashed across the writers’ forums I participate in. I’ve seen the links you post on Twitter and I’ve skimmed the glowing reviews you’ve plucked from Amazon and Goodreads. I’d like to let you know that I know it exists. And I don’t care.
Ouch. That’s cold. After all, I’m a writer. Aren’t I in the same pool, thrashing around, desperate to get my work noticed? Yes, I am, and that’s part of the problem. There are thousands of us in here, amateur and seasoned professional both, eager to get a slice of readership from people whose free time is steadily shrinking.
Writing doesn’t pay my bills. It would be nice if it could, but I have a day job, and a house to keep, and a body to maintain. My free time is limited, and stretched between working on…
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