...“Useful” I had a discouraging day yesterday.I don’t expect anyone to keep track—heck, I can’t keep track half the time. But I got another rejection of my book from another editor with another publishing house.I’ve read the stories of how long it has taken well-known authors to sell their first novel. A publisher has to put a lot of money into a new book, and the odds are slim that a writer’s first book will ever earn that money back. Publishers know this and so they are understandably cautious.You would think I would be used to rejection by now. Before I was even able to have my book read by publishers, I had to find an agent, and they are swamped with letters from writers who want the same thing I do—to see their book out in the world.Now that I have my wonderful agent, Annie, she is putting a lot of time into editing and working to sell my book, and she makes no money at all until the book sells. It is a long process. Everything takes months and months, and in the meantime, I keep writing, because that is the only part of the process I have any control over at all.So, when I got an “update” from Annie yesterday, I knew from the subject line of the email it would not be good news. The note read: Hi Annie, Thank you for the opportunity to read Carrie’s work. She is a talented writer, and I love the premise for this, but I didn’t connect with the characters quite as strongly as I’d hoped. It is with regret that I am a pass, but I hope you land the perfect home for this (or perhaps already have!).”I added this rejection to a file I keep with the previous rejection letters. Sometimes I read the comments later and, generally, I don’t get too discouraged. But yesterday I did.I was grumpy, and I felt more than a little sorry for myself. So I took a day off. Instead of writing, I went for a long walk.And, as I was walking, I suddenly thought of my best friend who died seven years ago. She was only 50 years old when she died, and I never met a person who was more alive. I thought of how she would chew me out for wasting even part of one day feeling sorry ...
