Mountain view, hiking trails, wood burning fire place, great fishing….. I wouldn’t dream of it. I wouldn’t even visit, but if I were a realtor, I would sell it, and make someone’s dream come true, because someone, somewhere, dreams of just this.
To me it sounds like cold showers, isolation, and the possibility of wildlife.
So why can realtors make dreams come true for others from what they themselves consider a nightmare, while literary agents can only sell books they have fallen in love with?
Honestly, I don’t understand.
As I lovingly create a world for characters I know better than most of my friends, I know I must hand over the labor of my heart to a world where commercial potential is of utmost importance, but why do agents have to love my characters and their struggles, to launch it to readers who should be the ones to love, or even hate their journeys.
You won’t find me in a log cabin, but maybe I’ve got one to sell you!
I hear you, Linda. Interesting comparison. Sometimes I feel like a dilapidated building in a strange neighborhood.
Great analogy!