Snarkattack

You get the picture (it’s mental, perhaps in several ways). So: what sort of a writer wouldn’t ask a professional writer who has offered their opinion freely in regards to your work?

A wimp like me. Remnants of stupid British politeness. Attempt at self-consolation reminds me that there is next week. That it would be impolite for me to bring up the matter. Are these excuses or ways of explaining my lack of spine?

Truthfully, it’s both fear and respect - wanting to remain professional. I have some social graces, and they tell me that to bother someone who is single-handedly running an organisation so I can get a gold star on my poem about band camp written in grade 8 is bad form. My piece has been read by a professional writer already, and by someone who works as an editor.

So what happens if my piece goes unmentioned next week, and the week after?

I don’t want to advance in this field by relying upon favouritism and/or pushing/exploiting contacts and networks rah rah rah. I just want to get things done the good old-fashioned way: trying, and failing and in between working very hard. Yes, sometimes relying upon goodwill, but the bulk of it has to be by myself.

Ok, I admit, cutting the queue by flashing one’s charms has been briefly entertained. Jokingly.

Thus ends the tale of the cowardly hack. Look forward to my gripes with having quirky ideas in writing: it’s all well and good to be cool, but if no one will publish you, who will know? And if you don’t know where to get published, even worse.