I hate when the internet makes me feel like in order to become a successful writer, I need a loyal fanbase before I even publish a book – like I need a platform that’s already big and promising.
I hate that in order to meet agents and editors, you have to live in New York or California. F*** you, Midwest.
I hate the reality that publishing is based on money. On sales. On how much money an agent thinks they can get out of your book and your career.
I hate that the indie market is so flooded with poorly written books, making it harder for indie writers to stand out.
I hate that people don’t read like they used to, but every other person seems to have written or is writing a book. There’s more writers than there are readers. (And they’ve all got a YA Fantasy.)
I hate that is it so impossibly hard to stand out in a crowd of thousands of people who are trying to do the exact same thing that I am – get published, get noticed, get that dream agent who connects me to my dream job of a full-time writer.
I hate the stigma toward indie authors, enough that some people turn up their nose immediately at the term “self-published.”
I hate the people on writer forums who have never published a book, are not an agent or editor, yet they know everything about writing and publishing. They’ll tell you what’s wrong with your query letter.
I hate that editors or so expensive. I don’t have 1200 bucks to throw at someone who may or may not give me worthwhile advice.
I hate that beta readers are so spotty – I’ve got several that have just dropped off the face of the world, usually after I pointed out things in their novel that didn’t work or that could sue some work. Hmm. Go figure.
Leading off that last one, I hate writers who assume that their book is gold, and anyone who doesn’t think so is just too ignorant to see otherwise. They want to argue your opinion of the book/plot/character, like you’re wrong.
And… scene. Sigh.
I’ve finally come down from the high of writing that epic fantasy that’s literally consumed my life since October. I’ve trudged into the horror of trying to find things to edit, places to work smooth, and plan the trajectory of the series. I’m fitting back into the rut of realization that I’ll probably not get published, just like every other book I’ve finished and edited and queried a hundred agents for.