When my year of novel writing flopped, I forced myself to enter the work force
If you tuned in to my prior post — A Flying Saucer Lands on Me — you know that my lifetime goal was to stay in my cheap apartment writing in my underwear.
To continue that wonderful lifestyle, I was counting on a quickie Western book to lasso me out of a deepening financial hole.
But when I tossed my manuscript over the transom of a New York publishing company, they heaved it back like a sack of mealy flour.
There was no more pretending to be a starving writer when the fiction might come true.
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