Let me tell you: it’s hard to believe.
Yesterday, I was trawling through the guidelines for the Writers of the Future contest (you know, the one that L. Ron Hubbard started. The. Big. One.), thinking I might submit something.
That was, until I saw the guidelines regarding “new and amateur.”
It seems I have become a professional somewhere along the way.
For so long I’d been led to believe by the literary crowd that my path through the world of ‘e’ was unconventional at least and career hindering at worst. “You won’t be professional in ‘e,’ my dear. If you want to get anywhere, you’ll have to be in print.” Or, “This ‘e’ business counts as a strike against you. A black mark in the world of publishing.” For the last five years, I’ve been picking and choosing my battles, making selective choices on when and how to market, who to submit to, who I want to work with, and striving to put my best foot forward even though I never agreed with their semantics.
And despite them all, I’ve become a professional. I’ve been read by many people, I’ve won awards. I’ve been placed in books alongside other great writers of my generation, and my publishers have been counted as some of the best Indie operations in the industry.
I am professional.
Hear me roar.