Unpublished Quotes

“An unpublished writer should doubt themselves. They should constantly wonder whether what they’re creating has merit. And then, having doubted, they should take up their pen and see if they can’t make it better.”

“An unpublished writer should doubt themselves. They should constantly wonder whether what they’re creating has merit. And then, having doubted, they should take up their pen and see if they can’t make it better.”

“Don't die with the music on your tongue unsung!Don't die with the apps in your mind undesigned!Don't die with the books in your head unpublished!Don't die with the sermons in your heart unpreached!Live well and die well!”

“The pain of an unpublished manuscript is akin to the trauma of bearing an unborn.”

“Very few authors, especially the unpublished, can resist an invitation to read aloud.”

“Writers, even unpublished writers, have a tendency not to notice what’s going on around them when they are the center of attention.”

“Great leaders die empty. They live to offload everything they put in them! Don’t die with your books in your mind unpublished!”

“CONGRATULATIONS DL Havlin! Your entry, "There are No Lights in Naples", an unpublished short fiction - flash fiction genre category, is a finalist for the 2016 Royal Palm Literary Awards competition!”

“As he spoke, the wind whistled through the gaps in his teeth, creating an odd musical accompaniment to his words. -- unpublished as of Jan 11 2016, but surely due to appear in one of my works eventually.”

“I'm more interested in becoming a commercial writer, and unfortunately, commentary on my writing from a bunch of other unpublished writers is of little utility in that regard. Being a better writer is something of a moot point, since if you're not a commercial writer to some extent, very few people will know whether your writing is any good or not.”

“Regular maps have few surprises: their contour lines reveal where the Andes are, and are reasonably clear. More precious, though, are the unpublished maps we make ourselves, of our city, our place, our daily world, our life; those maps of our private world we use every day; here I was happy, in that place I left my coat behind after a party, that is where I met my love; I cried there once, I was heartsore; but felt better round the corner once I saw the hills of Fife across the Forth, things of that sort, our personal memories, that make the private tapestry of our lives.”