The writing is everything. Not the publishing. Not the work-shopping. Not the agent-shopping. Not the Amazon sales rack. Not the deciding who will play you in the movie (Meryl Streep, of course, for 90 percent of us, what with the accents and all).
No. Just the writing. The unsexy part. The part where the blood drips from your forehead and you imagine yourself far more precious and special than you are.