I've been actively pursuing publication, knowing that I myself cannot produce nor distribute the colorful, picture food memoir cookbook that I envision. I've had some wonderful responses from agents in the publishing world, including the encouragement to start a food blog (which is why this blog exists).
Last week I got the kindest, most bittersweet email I could expect to get in this line of work. The agent, who has communicated back and forth with me for a few months, said that while my writing is lovely and the book proposal looks fantastic, until I am famous or have someone rich and famous behind me, she can't sell it. She can't market it. No publisher will take it.
This is how I feel.
I've felt this way before. And I feel this way now, about my cookbook. Basically I'm being told I'm still a nobody. And nobody will take a chance on a nobody. She did tell me that if my situation changes, she'd be happy to help me with my book.
Bittersweet. For once, I can say, "It's not my book, it's me."
And yet, despite this evidence glaring me in the face, despite the fact that only thirteen people will read this post (isn't it wonderful that I can see how many people visit my blog? LOL), I can't seem to let go of this dream. A part of me says, "Put aside this cookbook draft and work on something else, something that maybe will make you somebody." But the other part of me says, "I can't put it aside. It doesn't matter if no one believes in my work; I want this cookbook. I will write this cookbook."
Because I still have hope that I'm wrong, that's she's wrong, that somebody somewhere will back me up and believe. Believe in me. But I know that no one will believe in me if I don't believe in myself first.
So. Here we are. Keeping the faith.