An e-mail arrived in my inbox today with the subject line: “Your Submission: …”
Since I was at work at the time, I had an argument with myself.
“You can’t open that! You’re supposed to be working,” the me with the Midwestern work ethic said. (It’s the same me that never calls in sick because I don’t want to leave my coworkers in the lurch. I have something like 140 sick hours built up because never feel like I can take it.)
“Open it. It won’t take long — and it might be good news.”
“No, really. Good news or not, you can wait until you get home,” the angel me insisted.
My impatient side snorted. “Yeah, right.”
No need to guess which side won. I clicked on that e-mail faster than a hungry dog scarfs down its dinner. I’m not even sure I took time to carry on that conversation in my head before I opened it. (I should have!)
Unfortunately, the news was not good. Another rejection — the second on the partial MS for “Blind Date Bride” … well, the third. Two agents and one publisher have taken a pass.
I still have hope, though. At least it was an encouraging rejection, complete with a “hang in there and stick with it.”
The agent’s complaint? Worry that the voice isn’t unique enough to stand out in the market.
Now that’s a little worrisome, because I don’t have any other voice to write in. And confusing, because in the Beacon Contest judges’ comments, they loved my voice.
Then again, the judges’ comments are on “Beauty and the Ballplayer,” not “Blind Date Bride.” Maybe BDB still isn’t ready for prime time.
And maybe I just need to continue my agent search. Somewhere, out there, is the agent who will fall as in love with my story as I am. I just need to find her (or him).
Lucky for me, my friends at the Ruby Slippered Sisterhood wrote a blog post about just that topic today: the agent hunt.
It’s funny how wildly my mood has swung. I was euphoric about my contest final two weeks ago, especially after reading the judges’ feedback. I had a feeling it was the start of something big. I imagined myself on the verge of signing with an agent, selling a novel or both.
Now, I’m down in the dumps, questioning my story … my voice … even my writing talent. Yes, even a “good” rejection stings. (I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that.) 
I know rejection is a — huge — part of writing. We all get them. Even the bestselling authors got them at one time.
Even so, I can say it definitively: I don’t like the downslope of the writer’s roller coaster.
It’s time to make something good happen so I can crest another hill.
