Self-publishing requires a particular set of balls to be so determined and confident to get that story from manuscript stage through to a published book. Then it is the readers who judge, and in the beginning the readers are a rare species who have no idea who you are or if you would be any good to read.
Traditional publishing is completely different and requires, perhaps, the biggest set of gonads that a writer can get their hands on. To send to a traditional publisher who sees thousands of submissions a year, makes billions of dollars off of the work of authors, and have the power of making an unknown author into a public figure; it’s daunting.
It might be presumptuous, however, nothing ventured nothing gained, right? So I’m taking a deep breath and am writing my cover letter and printing off a clean version of my manuscript and slipping it into an oversized envelope and sealing it up and taking it to the post office and prying my fingers from the paper and handing it over to the post people and walking away and start waiting.
Oh shit. I need a stiff drink and a stuffed toy to cuddle. Fast.