I blogged before that my novel might be an unmarketable mashup of noir mystery, gothic lit, rock fetishism and supernatural suspense. Sure enough, I spent six months trying to find an agent. I got a few bites. A couple even sent me personal letters complimenting my voice. But in the end, no one was willing to rep it.
I'm not willing to let Mary Monster die on my hard drive. So I'm self-publishing it.
In a way, I think that's how it should've been all along. This is a personal book. A passion project. A book I wrote for me.
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