Chin Up, Chin Up

When I was in high school, a chin up was the absolutely worst form of exercise ever devised. Now that I’m a trifle older, I’ve found some other exercises that may qualify for the worst!

I haven’t much time, so I must moan quickly.

The process of getting your book published is fantastically painful. It’s like sitting on a desert island and watching the tips of masts of shiploads of food pass beyond the horizon, day after day after day after day after day.

You’re a writer. You know how it goes. You put your heart and soul into a project, and it comes out great.

But then you gotta sell it.

You move from that hopeful writer to a bedraggled salesperson, which is ironic, because, if you were a good salesperson, you probably wouldn’t be a writer. I would imagine there are some writers who are trying to escape the world of sales by writing a book. Quel tragique!

I’ve had queries out for almost two months now, so it’s time for the rejections to come flooding in…

Wait, wait, wait. Why get on an airplane if you don’t expect to fly? Fun though it must be to sit in the airliner seat and simply wait, the point would be to go somewhere, right?

So, enough of this desert island talk.

Chin up, mate!

You didn’t sign onto the Titanic for a pleasure cruise, did you?

If getting published was easy, why, everybody’d be a writer and then where would you be, eh?

So get out there and pitch your darned book!

What are you, made of dirt?

Thanks. I somehow feel better…

Author: John D Reinhart

Author, technical writer, videographer, actor, and naval historian John D Reinhart is a very busy guy. You can find his novels as

3 thoughts on “Chin Up, Chin Up”

  1. And even after acceptance, you have another round of marketing to do, and you start to learn that being an author is more about pitching and marketing than it is about the actual writing sometimes, lol. Thanks for this post!

  2. Yeah. I’d rather be back in time as JD Salinger or one of those other hermit-like writers that hardly even gave interviews! Or what about when one author–someone who wrote about 1940s LA, can’t recall his name, I’m the worst–sent some of his manuscript in on toilet paper?
    So 1. you could send stuff in on toilet paper and if it was good enough, it was accepted, and the publisher probably did ALL the marketing for you and 2. you were allowed to be a reclusive hermit, because, I’m sorry, that’s what writers are. They AREN’T salesmen or entertainers or carnival barkers, lol !!!

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