“Strumming my pain with his finger”
I’ve always loved writing. I was the kid who got in trouble for not paying attention to double-digit division because I was busy outlining a story idea in the margins of my math book. I loved the characters that spoke to me and I loved putting down what they had to say. As with most any writer, I grew up dreaming of a day I would see my book in print.
Through middle school and high school I continued writing stories. I filled up notebook after notebook with them and then one day in college, I decided to look into just how exactly one gets published. I browsed the ‘how to get published’ section of my local bookstore. I sat down with a stack of books. And I read that trying to get published is about as easy as wrangling 15 koala bears into 15 car seats.
It’s hard. It’s
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