by Shelt Garner
@sheltgarner
I feel like just a man with a dream. (Flips chair around.) You know who else was just a man and a dream…Donald Trump.
Before you get too excited, I say that in jest, but with a little bit of bitterness. Back when I had money, I would offer to pay manuscript consultants money and they would either ghost me or, pretty much, just laugh in my face. Which, of course, makes me wonder — why?
You would think that manuscript consultants — who are supposed to help creative people take things to the next level — would be tolerant of kooky drunk cranks like me.
Well, guess what, you guess wrong!
Apparently, they don’t want my cooties near them in any way. They are just snobs who won’t give a brother a chance. This is very, very grating to my nerves. All I need them to do is be a sounding board for my vision for the various novels I have rolling around in my head.
And I can’t even get some of them to help me do that. My hope is, of course, that I can bootstrap myself with a novel, some novel that gets sold and then use THAT as a calling card to make my second novel a lot better.
Of course, I’ll be old as fuck by the time all that sorts itself out.
