In the past, recovering from rejection has been easier, especially when I had four or five or ten others lined up.
I'm not talking about boys, I'm talking about Agents/Publishers. I know what you're thinkin.
But the last few letters have been hard. It seems like the more I get rejected, the more worthless I feel about my writing. It's not original enough, it's not captivating enough, it's not break-out-sweep-the-market-make-grown-men-cry-and-teenage-girls-scream enough.
I keep wondering, "why?" instead of "what do I need to learn?" little plug for you, mum.
For a few hours, I kept thinking that I need to just give it up and find a new dream. It's never going to happen, no one is going to listen to me, and I've been sucked so dry that I can hardly get a word down on paper, much less write a decent book.
Now I assume that you are sitting there, reading this, expecting some brilliant pearl of wisdom to come bursting out of the rainclouds; or maybe a softly drifting, miraculous little snowflake of irony to come rest on your nose and you'll think...
ah. that's what it's all about.
But I got nothin.
I'm not even sure any of this makes sense.
All I know is that I have to write. I can't give it up. Even if I try, it's only going to come back again like a chocolate craving, or the holidays, or a jury summons.
So no matter how crappy I'm feeling right now, how defeated, wilted, tired, frustrated, or hungry for a milky way (it's that chocolate craving thing I mentioned. It's really starting to bite me.) I know that something will always come knocking in my brain.
-tap, tap, tap-
And I'll say.... here we go again.