Last time, I mentioned that I sent out a few query letters. While was obsessing over refreshing my email app on my phone, I finally got a reply. My heart lurched forward and I read it. I was rejected . . . not personally, but my book. My emotions were almost instant: aww and okay. Those are what I remember. After researching and reading articles online, I knew that there was probably a little chance for my novel to get picked up right off that bat. I believe it is that knowledge that softened the blow. I wasn’t exactly sad. I think it was more of nonchalance (hmm, not sure I used that right).
I wasn’t exactly sad. I just accepted it. My obsession from waiting for a reply to my query letters now moved to waiting to hear back for a job. Either way, getting rejected was an eye opener. I need o have more patience because agents have lives and they have jobs and it’s not their fault I didn’t do a good job. That sounds like I’m blaming myself but I’m not. I feel good. Some people would argue that I’m in denial or hiding my feelings but I see myself as a positive person and I’m aware that there are some things that I can’t control.
Heck, receiving no emails is also a form of rejection. I might have been already rejected for a lot of things. Either way, I just got keep trying. I’m not giving up. Life it like a manuscript: you got keep editing . . . or something like that.