And not just because I’m a native Georgian.
I’m beginning to rebel against all these things that we have to do as writers to get our work published and to be seen, heard and read.
When is a body supposed to write? Somewhere between tweets and posts?
What happened to the good old fashioned dynamic duo – the writer and his/her agent? The writer produced the goods – the adventure, the tears, the joy, the triumph!
The agent produced the pr tours, the comps, the trips to Europe – the cosseting, encouraging, praising, damning, the carrot on the string!
Oh, I know I’m whining. But, I’m a romantic, and that’s what romantics do. Isn’t it?
