What? A week? It’s been a week since my Last Brilliant Post? How does such a thing happen?
I’ll tell you how it happens.
You just go ahead and live a little of your life and your blogging time diminishes to a little sparkly crystal of preciousness which you hold near your heart and stare at in your quiet moments.
Or something.
But we took a little family trip (to a sunny southern city) and we laughed and we hiked and we sang songs and we told funny stories and Kid 1 may have poured her coffee-machine hot cocoa into the bottom of her mug, forgetting that little detail of Turning the Mug Over. We swam and we fogged-in the hot-tub room and we ate 5 pounds of gummy worms among us. And those were a few really fun days.
But also. There was this other thing.
I’m querying, you see. And for me, querying is a mad mixture of exciting and horrible, much like cheese fondue or deep-fried anything. It feels so awesome right up until it starts feeling barf-inducing.
I’ve sent out several queries. I’ve gotten about 10% positive response. (No, Dad, that doesn’t mean offers of representation. That means people saying “That doesn’t sound too bad. Send the manuscript – or part of it – to me and I’ll have a look at it.” Which is so very, very positive. To me.) And I’ve gotten several very polite rejections.
Rejections, polite or otherwise, make me sad.
Because as much as I’d like to say I can separate myself from my work, it’s PERSONAL. You know? It is. And a tiny part of me wants to knock on the metaphorical doors of these nice people and say, “But LOOK at me. I’m nice. I’m groomed. I’m wearing accessories. And also, I know how to write a book that is Good.”
Which, naturally, I can’t say to them, because that’s not how it works.
Which, naturally, causes ulcers.
Naturally.
So I live with it. I put on a happy face and I do a few deep sighs once in a while. I send out five more queries. I eat a piece of something delicious (which was, up to yesterday, a square of almond toffee, but from now on until later, it will be something sugarless and without white flour, because also the one-pound-a-week thing isn’t working no matter how many positive thoughts I send its way. See note above re. gummy worms) and I move on.
Also, because I have had some successes (remember those positive responses?) I bought myself a book. “The Fault in our Stars” by John Green. I hope it’s glorious. I have reason to hope. Because he’s brilliant, and stuff. (But mine wasn’t signed. And I might have to do something about that. If you’re not a Nerdfighter, you may not know that JG signed like 150,000 copies of “TFIOS” for the first run. Who gets a first run printing of 150,000? John Green does.) **UPDATE: I looked it up. Only the PRE-ORDERED 150,000 books are signed. Pre-ordered. 150,000. Signed. Go, John Green. You go.
So, on we go, ulcers and rejections and smiles and carrot sticks and all.
(14) Comments for this blog
Rejections stink, Becca. Hope you get glorious good news soon.
Rejections stink, Becca. Hope you get glorious good news soon.
Rejections are yucky…but you are not. Even if you stay the very same weight that you are right now, and eat many, many gummy-worms. I know I don’t count for much in the scheme of things…but I think you are an amazing writer. Not just good. And I know that even though worry comes, you can do it. Because you rock. Almond toffee and all. 🙂
Rejections are yucky…but you are not. Even if you stay the very same weight that you are right now, and eat many, many gummy-worms. I know I don’t count for much in the scheme of things…but I think you are an amazing writer. Not just good. And I know that even though worry comes, you can do it. Because you rock. Almond toffee and all. 🙂
I hate the rejections (and eating too much chocolate…it’s true. I have to spend a week with my treadmill when that happens.) But you can do it! You are a great writer and it will happen. Plus you are super nice and accessorize awesomely. ;)((hugs))
I hate the rejections (and eating too much chocolate…it’s true. I have to spend a week with my treadmill when that happens.) But you can do it! You are a great writer and it will happen. Plus you are super nice and accessorize awesomely. ;)((hugs))
On more than one occasion, I made a collection of rejection letters while job searching. I never did (though I could have) make a list of refused dates — except maybe the ones your Mom gave after I’d awakened to the fact that broadening the courting search was a really dumb idea. (That was the era when I earned the Fink-of-the-Month award from her roommates.) The long-term important fact is that a million rejections fade into puniness when the one right acceptance comes — and you may have the foundation for that already.
Besides which, you write and look GORGEOUS. (I guess one of those needs a “…ly” for the grammatically committed.)
On more than one occasion, I made a collection of rejection letters while job searching. I never did (though I could have) make a list of refused dates — except maybe the ones your Mom gave after I’d awakened to the fact that broadening the courting search was a really dumb idea. (That was the era when I earned the Fink-of-the-Month award from her roommates.) The long-term important fact is that a million rejections fade into puniness when the one right acceptance comes — and you may have the foundation for that already.
Besides which, you write and look GORGEOUS. (I guess one of those needs a “…ly” for the grammatically committed.)
Rejection is no fun no matter how they try to say it. But You are amazing, and I know you will succeed at all you set your mind to. You are a gorgeous woman, with a great personality.
Your family getaway sounds so nice. We need one of those.
Rejection is no fun no matter how they try to say it. But You are amazing, and I know you will succeed at all you set your mind to. You are a gorgeous woman, with a great personality.
Your family getaway sounds so nice. We need one of those.
I love your book, and I’ll tell anyone who asks that it’s the goods. This, from someone who doesn’t read ANYTHING in the genre you’ve written this one in. And you’re right; based on adorableness alone you should be published.
Of course, that leaves folks like me working the take-back counter at Target, but that’s life for the accessorially challenged of the writing world.
I love your book, and I’ll tell anyone who asks that it’s the goods. This, from someone who doesn’t read ANYTHING in the genre you’ve written this one in. And you’re right; based on adorableness alone you should be published.
Of course, that leaves folks like me working the take-back counter at Target, but that’s life for the accessorially challenged of the writing world.
This part sucks. There’s no way around that and no use in me pretending it won’t be for you. This sucks. But you know what doesn’t? YOUR BOOK. I know. And I also know that while this part sucks, it won’t always suck because the part that rocks will make it’s way to you. And it WILL rock. And then the chocolates will be celebrations and there will be squealing and kitchen-dancing. I don’t believe this will happen. I KNOW this will happen. Soon, you will too. *hug* Love you.
This part sucks. There’s no way around that and no use in me pretending it won’t be for you. This sucks. But you know what doesn’t? YOUR BOOK. I know. And I also know that while this part sucks, it won’t always suck because the part that rocks will make it’s way to you. And it WILL rock. And then the chocolates will be celebrations and there will be squealing and kitchen-dancing. I don’t believe this will happen. I KNOW this will happen. Soon, you will too. *hug* Love you.