please mr. fantasy, send me an email. . .
I read your first five chapters of CHERRY, kk. How long have you been writing again? Just a couple of years? Wow. Well, I’m really impressed and I definitely want to read the rest of your novel. Send it as an attachment, attention me. Personally, yep. . .
Like a backhand across the face. What the hell happened?
He read my query and liked it enough to ask for the first few chapters. He read the chapters and took a pass. Nope. No thanks. Good luck and all that. An email, just a couple of lines, succinct, professional.
It knocked me on my ass. Intellectually, as soon as I read that email I was working it, putting a positive spin on it. Patting myself on the back for making it that far. Telling myself he’s only one agent. It wasn’t meant to be, that’s all. I know CHERRY’s good, I just need to find the right fit and I will, it’s just a matter of time.
But emotionally, I was wrecked yesterday. Funny how fast one can slip into that sickening, self-indulgent mode: it’s crap/I suck. . .
Today I’m sorting through my feelings. Tossing the most ridiculous maudlin shit which serves absolutely no purpose. Filing assorted bits and pieces of the experience away–just in case, for future reference. Stepping back, putting the thing in perspective.
I considered marshalling the troops today, meeting my disappointment head on, searching and querying. But I decided to give myself time. As David Brandt says, I need to process this, so I shall allow myself a couple of days to digest that email, let it work it’s way through my system. I shall absorb what’s of value and shite the rest.
Yep. This too shall pass.