on Anne R Allen:
The book you poured your heart into languishes on your hard drive like the wallflower at the dance — slumped shoulders, wilted corsage and all.
Your crit group tries to be encouraging, but the message is clear. Go to plumbing school/welding school where you will learn how to do something people actually need. Or maybe go to beauty school and learn how to create a great hairstyle. Which grateful clients will actually pay you for — and add a generous tip.
Right now, your ego is crushed under an avalanche of rejections.
Or, even worse, non-responses from the agents, publishers, writing contests you’ve been entering.
Nothing you try works.
No one is interested in your memoir about your experiences as James Bond’s Number One fan.
- The time you won a tap dancing contest in the sixth grade.
- Your 200K word epic fantasy.
- That steamy, scorching hot romance.
- Your sensitive, coming-of-age novel.
No wonder you don’t feel like an author.