There’s enough I don’t know about self-publishing to fill a self-published book on self-publishing. The old days of submitting your manuscript, awaiting rejection, rinsing & repeating, is no longer the only option on the block.
Like the great unwashed, I have a drawer full of unfinished novels and scripts, abandoned, the characters within lost in limbo, trapped between pages, confined together in the darkness of storyline purgatory, awaiting rebirth, a chance to fulfill their destiny, to breath once again.
But alas, so bends the path of the aspiring writer. First drafts contain the kernel, the seed. Subsequent revisions grow that tiny cerebral concoction into either a towering oak, flowering bush, or a bent twig.