Is an agent by any other name just as...
Okay that analogy just plain sucks. But it does give you an idea of where my head is at right now. Part of me thinks that if I’m going to take myself seriously then I should have an agent and another part thinks well how serious a writer are you really? I’m not going to quit my day job because I’m a realist. I have to be a realist; I have a family that depends on me. I have been responsible for the feeding and care of AT LEAST one other human being for the last twenty years. Sure I would love to have my cell phone ring during my morning commute tomorrow and have someone say “Becky Flade? We love your books. We’re sending you a big fat check. You’re the next Nora Roberts – Stephen King – John Grisham.” But come on, that’s one in a million. I’ve got a better chance at being hit by a Septa bus. Tomorrow. Today even. Out here in the real world I have bills to pay. That means a nine-to-five. My nine-to-five. Not being in a position to have my books support my family and ...