Hi to the idle, who is probably reading this because they have nothing else to do at the moment (or the word rejection caught your attention),
I got my first rejection today. This evening, to be exact, after a long day at work. My poor little soul didn’t see this coming, at least not when I sent it off July 28th. As time went on, I figured such. The sad thing is, I’m going to set myself up for it again (to be rejected) in a few months or so.
Now I feel like a talentless novice. Who did I think I was that I could write a novel and expect it to be published and placed beside the works of people like Ernest Hemingway, Jane Austen, Stephen King, or Stephenie Meyer. Those are the writers (amongst others).
They’re certainly not going to take some novice chicken scratch that sends a reader whirling all over the page perplexed and confused.
I don’t know how I’m going to do it. I’m going to have to work on it and work on it until it reads the way the story should be told.
It’s a great story. I imagined it, and still do to this day. I just can’t describe the story on paper. That’s my kill. I need to be able to take snapshots of what is in my head and craft it into a readble story that the reader can envision.
Anyway, thanks to the agent for getting back to me. She was my dream agent. The top one on my list. I sent it exclusively to her because it’s a great story. I’m sorry I did that now. I should have waited. I don’t have my writing skill at an appealable stage. (I think I’m talking at the reader and not to the reader).
This top agent wrote me a very respectful heartfelt rejection letter (via email). She wrote encouraging words that helped keep me from losing my hope. I will study more. I still appreciate her and that she must do what she must (rejection, that is). I will make the story better. I have my characters to think about. I have my future readers to think about. For me it’s not the money. It’s the book I want to have people read it and enjoy it. That’s where fulfillment would come from for me. Until then, all my big fantasies, I’ll close them into a box and shove it under the bed.
Thanks for lending me your ear (your attention).
With a drying tear on my cheek,
No word of the day. I’m too sad this evening.