To be or not to be?

My muse has finally caught up with me. It’s time to refine some stuff and to make some new stuff. There’s a curious fork in the road, however.

See, I wrote this book about a boy named David. I edited the crap out of it, and then I needed to shop it around to see if I could get an agent so others could read my creation.  Instead of doing that, however, I wrote another book about David.

I’m now editing the stuffin’ out of the second book. All my instincts shrink from the agent stuff — I want to write, after all, not go around declaring how awesome my material is — but I am quickly realizing that I need a representative to help answer an increasingly important question:

How long am I going to do this?

I want to write for an audience. Not for fame, not for wealth (does that even really happen?). Just for people. The way I see it, the best way to do that is for it to be published. And since I’m not a good person for championing my own cause, or knowing where to champion it… I need someone else to do it for me. Ergo*, the agent.

I’ve known this for a while, but the issue is more tangible now. I have to decide what my next step is going to be after I ship the current manuscript to an editor that isn’t me. I planned three books for David, but as I’m looking toward the end of his story, there could be four. There could be five.

But again, how long am I going to do this?

I want to write for other people. I think that’s when I do my best work. Writing these things is a wonderful labor of love, and I don’t want it to be just for me. And since I can’t outline David 3 without knowing if there should be a David 4, now I have to try and find an agent that will have me. This is a much-needed kick in the gullet, and something that will hopefully put an end to my always-on-the-verge-of-sending-queries waffling.

But still… poopcockles.

*I have always wanted to use the word “ergo”. Score!

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