At the end, my dad had summarized it perfectly.
“So,” he’d said. “You’re looking to save up enough money to take three months off to rewrite the book. And if you do that, then you’re going to try and find an agent. Which might take months on its own. And then, if you do that, you’ll hope the agent can find a publisher. And if they can, then the book will go into a queue, get edited a half dozen more times, and maybe in another year or two will make it into a store.”
It wasn’t unsupportive. Not by any means. My dad was just recounting the realities of what I’d told him.
“Yes,” I’d admitted.
Then he had said something else.
“What if you published it yourself?”
Things kind of changed after that.
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