I have a manuscript.

It’s there, on my computer, on my Kindle, my tablet. It sits there waiting.

What now? Months of slaving away on it and it’s come to the point I’ve always dreaded. It would be so easy to tuck it away in a drawer and start work on another project. I want to write, not sell.

Do I…. handed it out to everyone I know regardless of their interest?  Rely on the good nature of friends and family for feedback? Or seek out the beta readers who will provide me with honest, unbiased appraisal?

Do I… pay a consultant to pour over it and critique my every word. Do I let them assassinate my characters and pick away at unnecessary prose, poor structure, style and whatever else they do for the extortionate amount of money they charge, because for that cost you want them to do something with it!  Then re-write (wouldn’t it be nice if they simply came back and said, got an agent who’s perfect for you… but let’s be realistic). It’s not that I fear re-writing, it’s then I’m back with a new manuscript and what then?  This could go on infinitum.

Do I… find an agent. Do I have the manuscript copy-edited, polish it up, write a terrible synopsis, because frankly I’ve no idea what makes a good one and try my hand at the impossible-to-get-right cover letter. No doubt I could string this option out of months as I spent more time hunting around for an agent and less time writing on my next project.

Do I… self-publish… er no. I’m a writer, not a publisher.

Do I… read yet another writer’s website, blog, self-help book for inspiration, advice, let’s make this look simple or depressing tales of woe, etc.

So. Hum. Pauses. Thinks. Keeps thinking.

Goes and makes lunch.

Maybe I’ll break the back of that damn synopsis and think again.