Okay, so…

I’ve been told my book can never sell because it’s too long and it lacks a protagonist, an antagonist, and a plot, and this is supposedly clear without anyone having to take a look at my manuscript.

I’ve been told that I can’t publish a book because I’m going to college, and I won’t have enough time to support it.

Then I was told, by actual agents—not one, not two, but seven different ACTUAL agents—that going to college has absolutely no weight on whether or not a book is chosen. And quite frankly, since I apparently don’t have a book to sell, it’s the least of my worries—according to them.

I’ve also been told that blood is blue until it touches air.

You know, I might be a tad slow, but I think everyone’s bullshitting me. So I’ve been digging through all this stuff, and I’m just going to use what I can.

One: I’ve got to stop listening to ANYONE who’s ever written anything that hasn’t been published. Seriously. One self-promoted book barely on the market does NOT make you an expert. I’m taking the agents’ word for it, and I can get a book published regardless of college or whatever. An agent’s job is to promote the book. That’s what agents do. If I’m doing all the work, why bother with them? Why not just self-publish?

Two: Yes, my book is too long, and I can definitely use some major overhaul editing. I’ve worked out a new plot that’ll make it shorter. I’m writing now.

Three: I miss having friends. I miss my friends, but the last couple of months have changed me. It feels like I’m a million miles away from them. I’ve been feeling increasingly like I’m stuck in my own life, with absolutely nothing to look forward to. I can’t find a single person who’d give my stuff critique, and the last time I posted on the internet, I was drug through the garbage. And it’s not as if I can give up writing. That’s like asking me to stop breathing. Even the people on here… I haven’t talked to them in ages… God I miss you.

How Thoreau managed to live in the woods alone for two years, I’ll never know.