[Giathyn]

This is only my second post here, but I've been a regular reader for some time.

The question posed in this thread has preoccupied me for some time, and I'm glad of the chance to get it off my chest.

My writing partner and I worked together on a project so insanely ambitious that it took us fourteen years to produce a version which we were convinced would work. Between us, we put in 20 hours a week, week-in-week-out, for all of those years – that’s how much we believed in the idea. Three weeks after we completed the final draft of the first volume (after numerous rewrites at the behest of various editors and our then agent), my partner had a coronary and died. He was 49. He had put his heart and soul into that book, and he really wanted it to be published. However, as it became clear that this was probably not going to happen, he became increasingly frustrated, then dispirited, and finally despondent. This was understandable, given how talented he was, and it’s difficult to avoid the suspicion that this might have contributed to his death (though poor diet, high blood pressure and an unwillingness to go to the doctor were probably the major causes).

I was also frustrated by our inability to get anywhere – particularly given that our then agent and at least one major publisher were both very positive about the book. However, I was enjoying the ride so much that it really didn’t matter to me whether or not we succeeded. Having the chance to work with someone as sublimely talented as Greg represented a success in itself.

Sadly, all that has changed since he died (almost three years ago now). I now find myself desperate to get the book published because it is the last thing Greg will ever write. Unless it is gets into print, it will render all those years he put into the book a complete waste – something which I find quite unconscionable, since I drove him very hard, even when his health was failing. Of course, none of us realised he was so ill. I don’t think he was aware of it himself, but in hindsight, the signs were all there. It must have contributed to his deteriorating mood. As a result, I can’t help but think that he might have been better off spending those final years doing something more enjoyable than slogging away on a project he no longer believed would succeed. I have to blame myself for that. I refused to give up on the thing, when it might have been better to abandon it years ago.

Anyway, I’m still working on the series, with almost religious zeal, and while I’m very close to finishing it, I’m no closer to selling it. We seem to take one step forward, then another step back. From what I’ve read on this board, it’s a dilemma many of you share. My dilemma, unfortunately, is compounded by profound loss and twinges of guilt. (Greg was not only my writing partner, he was also my oldest friend, my best friend, and a member of staff at the college where I teach. He was also like an uncle to my children! I feel his loss every day.)

Listen guys, I hope I don’t sound too maudlin. The thread just struck a chord with me.