Fifteen minutes ago I dropped my "submission package" in the mail: cover letter, several thousand words of novel, SASE and synopsis. Postage, counting the SASE, was just under two dollars. Ink and paper are a negligible expense, and I'm guessing the large envelope was less than a buck.
So probably an investment of three dollars, tops. (Oh plus 31 years working on the damn thing. But that was recreation. I should have paid the novel.)
I think this was a good investment. I may be over-confident, but I think the odds of getting my novel published are superior to one in six million, which are my odds of winning the big prize in California if I buy three tickets.
I don't think there are six million novels out there that are more publishable than mine. Not if you limit the count to the ones actually in circulation. I'm not counting the ones at the back of the nation's sock drawers.
I'm a realist. I'm not an egomaniac.
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