Good news: I’m sending out more query letters than ever before.
Bad news: I’m getting rejections faster and faster.
I’m not naive; I recognize that I’m going to be rejected a hundred times over before I receive my first “yes.” I’ve read the tales of respected authors gritting through the pile of rejection letters and writing anyway, sending out their manuscript on an envelope filled with hope. I know that I’m just one in a million faces behind a computer screen, lifting up my story like Oliver Twist begging for more.
Even so, every politely worded email goes straight into my gut, another swallowed thorn twisting inside my stomach lining. Every time I find myself wondering where my words went wrong, scanning through pages and pages looking for the red arrow saying “Here. This is where you failed.”
It makes it harder to crank out a thousand words a day; I stare at my unfinished second novel and my attention wanders, the tab closing behind it. My eyes go out of focus and I can’t remember what I wanted to write and why. And, then I’ll read an article about J.K. Rowling’s time on welfare or how Amelia Atwater-Rhodes was only fourteen when she was published. It makes my fingers itch just thinking about it.
After that, I can’t help but write.