It is an oddity that seems normal now days. My pensive friend wants to be published. I am often contemplating the course of "great artists" who were best BEFORE being "popular or published." It would seem that the moment you are owned by the machine, the fury of the creative wanes. Perhaps the cosmos is not happy with us trying to direct its intentions. Perhaps people are better creating when they are not constrained. Creativity is the bloom of a well watered flower; its bound to draw bees. I taste it in occassional gulps; sometimes only sips; its nectar is unmistakeable and fuels the lust for its return.
There is a residue that the creative leaves on its victims. They have a certain smell. Their energy is more than just their own. They seem magnetic even when there may be no obvious "cosmetic incentives" apparent. It is an invisible python encircling its prey with an unmatched passion, quietly consuming rational conscienceness, squeezing free the distractions that would make it easily jealous. Creativity is a jealous master. If its not number one; it becomes number missed. Her revenge is devastating. Oh, you dont believe me. Hmmm...think of any musician that "used to be hot;" stare into the photo of their eyes, peer into their soul. They would give up anything get back in the soup of its graces.
Creativity feeds on whatever its surrounded by in addition to its own agenda. There are no substitutes for it. It is a red hot brand from a roaring fireplace surrounded by lavish cozy sofas; its light glowing through cool wine glasses. Full attention ONLY. Thats the beauty and danger of creativity. I hope you get published; but moreso, I hope its what you anticipated and the cosmos remembers your location and continues to endorse your presence and disciple. Cheers! I'll sip to that.