Another Rejection

My sweet little book – The Northern Line to Shropshire – received another kicking this morning. The last of the agencies I'd sent it to has rejected it. The poor thing is back in its box, licking its wounds and feeling sorry for itself, much like my dog after his snowy walk this morning.

“Thank you very much for your enquiry regarding your work. We take on new clients very infrequently and in order to do so we have to feel that something is very special indeed. Having considered your enquiry we’re afraid we are not confident we could find you a publisher so we regret that we’re unable to take the matter further. We wish you the best of luck elsewhere.”

It's true, it's not an obviously commercial book. It has no narrative drive, and it's fair to say nothing happens - both of which are sort of the point. But of all the things I've written, it is by far the best. I totally believe in it, despite everyone else (including half my friends) dismissing it.

Thing is, I know if I came across a book just like it on the shelves, I'd be intrigued, would buy it after the merest browse, read it in a single sitting, recommend it to everyone and then leave it by the toilet so that I could dip into it occasionally. And most people I know would say I'm a pretty good judge of a book.

So, I'll have to self-publish. I had decided to put it up on Kindle, but I really think it's a book that lends itself to opening at random pages and enjoying a few pages. No doubt it will be akin to vanity publishing, but at the least it would be nice to present a copy to everyone who gets a mention in the book.