Without a Net

As you may have noticed if you've stopped by here before, I'm a writer. A struggling writer, but a writer. I've been fortunate so far with some lucky breaks but each thing I write has to go through a submission process. My latest project is a book that's a bit different. At the end of last year, I won a contest with a small publishing house with it, but I turned that contract down. (All hell is still raining down from that decision, but that's another ugly story for another day.) I also landed an agent and another publication offer within the same week. The second publication offer was with a good, reputable house, but not a big NY one. The agent wanted to take a shot with the book with the big boys.

I said, "Okay."

It wasn't too risky at the time, because the smaller house was kind enough to give me some leeway and wait their turn, because they're very classy and cool like that.

However, I can't string them along forever. Yesterday I had to tell them I was turning down the publication offer because things are still up in the air with submissions to other publishers.

I've got gambling in my blood, which means that even though I have a strong surface desire to play things safe and easy and always have a safety net and backup plan, I sometimes take risks and do reckless, compulsive things. This may have been one of those reckless, compulsive, and quite likely very stupid things if (when) another offer doesn't materialize. But, you know, what the fuck. I don't particularly enjoy the thought of this little sequence of events becoming a cautionary tale for others. But I'd also really hate myself if I didn't go for it.