The publishing journey is about the stupidest fucking journey you could ever aspire to take. It’s like asking somebody to kick you in the crotch, thanking them for it, grinning inanely, and then asking somebody else to treat you the same. When I was younger, more inexperienced, and stupider, I held an unflappable belief I’d be published. I think most authors at a similar stage in their careers feel similarly. It’s just a matter of time. This is naivete talking. Or we can go back to that stupidity thing. Then I got older and learned more about writing, and that my writing at that stage was shit. Not hopeless. Not…