As I was walking up a steep hill this morning, it occurred to me that writing a book is like climbing a mountain. You huff and puff to the peak, nurturing your baby into something you can be proud of, and all the while you think, by the time I get to the top my baby will have grown into a complete novel, and it will be a quick jaunt downhill. But when you get to the top and witness the sheer precipitous slope on the far side, you realize that getting your manuscript published is going to be no easy feat. This leg of the journey is likely to be even slower and scarier. What if you fall? What if you twist your ankle? Who will take care of your baby then? And, of course, many agents and publishers will only consider your work if you don’t do multiple submissions, so you most likely will have to take one step at a time. Sometimes I feel like I’ve undertaken a long and arduous journey down the tallest peak of Mount Everest. Anyone got a sled?
A Journey Down Mount Everest