The latest person to view my novel ( a publicist I met by phone, serendipitously) gave it thumbs up. Granted, I heard this second hand through her cousin, my unofficial agent, my novel's champion! (No actual agent, yet.) So should I follow his advice to self publish? Should I make an e-book?
I am confused, tired, bemused, annoyed, perhaps depressed. I have an urge to burn all my old diaries.
In other, better news, Oprah pays tribute to the great Barbra Streisand today. In a previous Oprah interview, Streisand revealed she forgot the words once and did not perform publicly again for twenty-seven years . I was shocked, and oddly comforted. Maybe there is yet hope for my twelve year old unfinished first novel. And the fifty-odd old songs of mine hiding in a folder. And the current, four years in process, novel? Maybe in time these hidden talents will see the light of day.
I keep thinking too much time has passed. During those twenty-seven years I wonder if Streisand obsessed over not performing like I obsess over not publishing.
Eventually though, she stood on a stage again and let her voice rise up.
How do we find the courage, the heart, to keep putting our voices out there?