Did anyone hear that sigh?
That’s me – a novel frustrated by its lack of purpose in the world.
I’m not feeling sorry for myself, but the potential ridicule (for being unworthy amongst a myriad of superior books) makes me want to pull out my pages and start again!
To be published, or not to be published – that is the question. If I wait too long, my words will fade and my spine may break. No, I am strong and I am woman – I am Iris, Growing Iris that is. (If Bridget Jones had a daughter with Buster Keaton, she could be me, Iris.)
Now that I have released my angst, I am ready to throw myself off the shelf and on to the site of Amazon to see what unfolds. With my fonts held high, I’m convinced that I can entertain and possibly, enlighten.
Stay tuned for the next installment of: where will I (Growing Iris) end up – stuck in digital purgatory or pondering life on the author’s bookshelf?