I don't need lots of encouragement, maybe just a little. 

When I sent "Star Axe "off in 1979, I suppose I had starry dreams, but even then I was aware of the long odds. Not fully aware. Ignorance is bless. Later on I read the odds on having a book accepted "over-the-transom" and it was pretty scary. 

Story is, some writers would throw their manuscripts over the little transom above the doors of the offices of publishers in hopes they'd be discovered and that became the term for all unsolicited manuscript. Supposedly, transom manuscripts would be picked up at random by everyone from editors to office clerks and the first page would be read and most often inserted back into the return envelope and that was that. 

Even back then, only a few publishers would read unsolicited manuscripts. If I remember rightly, the yearly "Writer's Market" book--which was about the only source I could find for addresses to publishers--listed about twelve or so publishers. Later I understood that there were basically three tiers of publishers, even paperback originals publishers, which is a lower tier on its own: the elite, prestige publishers, the middle-respectable publishers, and the lower tier "real" publishers but just scraping by. 

By instinct I sent my book to two of the lower tier publishers and one upper tier publisher and got acceptances from both of the lower tier publishers. I was so excited by my acceptance that I whooped and hollered in the courtyard where the mailboxes were, confirming once and for all to my neighbors that the hermit in room 212 was crazy.

Only after it sunk in did I realize how little money they were offering. $1000 (equivalent to $3500 today.) But I was sure I was on my way. And indeed, I sold two more books in a short time, for the equivalent of $12,000 today. I was living at such a bare minimum that this was almost an improvement in living standards.

I moved back to Bend and started mowing lawns for a living. I got an agent who would only send manuscripts to the upper tier publishers. 

And I stalled. 

When I bought Pegasus Books in 1984, shortly after marrying Linda and the two boys, my writing career faltered and stopped. 

Flash forward 25 years and I finally decided to see if I could finish just one more book. Struggled for a couple of books, finally finished one I liked, sent it off--got rejected. But instead of being put off, the more mature me kept in touch with the publisher, who expressed an interest in my writing if not in vampires, and when I wrote something I thought he'd liked, sent it off. I think Andy Ziegert's cover to "Led to the Slaughter" was the final touch that got it accepted.

And I was on my way.

Since then, it seems like I've always had a thin sliver of opportunity to pursue. A door that was opened just a crack. A path to follow.

It doesn't need to be much, just a little bit of encouragement. Right now, that sliver of encouragement is short stories.