The Book

Of Bloody Reflections, has been leavening in its file since the equinox/eclipse. I've hardly poked at it all, see, last time I finished in 2013 I was all caught up in project completion and I submitted too soon. Way too soon. I committed a cardinal sin, one which must clog up the slush piles of agents and publishers world wide. Sorry about that, dears.

Thing is: I'm serious. This is my career. I am going to, after years more to come of building audiance and polishing voice and skill, make a living. This takes time, and wit, and luck.

I aint got luck. My wits are healing. I'm giving it time, I'm working on my patience. I listen to advice.

In this time I've let the poetry flow, on paper, in performance, and read others, and worked on marketing ideas. I've created a bit of promo material that people responded well to but needs further development. I've been poetry busking and made £35 in a couple of hours, leaving me with an actual profit from poetry (astounding). I've met a lot of wonderful poets, writers and storytellers. I've jammed poetry with musicians.

I've begun the second and concluding book, Refractions of Fire, and worked more on the synopsis for that and pondered the themes.

I've drafted my submission package. I've begun to draw up a list of suitable agents.

Now it's time to open that file again. To give it a thorough, critical read through. To tidy up loose words and threads, and I suspect to pull The End into a better alignment. To ask myself honestly and without fear of failure or narcissistic grandeur: Is it ready? Is it viable?

Events in my personal life have left me with little confidence but I can not and will not let that hinder progress. Resilience is a major factor of success.

Then it will be time to polish that submission package and get rejected again...with hope, with acceptance, with a willingness to get stronger.

It's almost time to burn.