So, those two possibilities of representation turned into two more rejections.
I know that’s the reality of things. I’m not surprised or shocked and I’m certainly not angry. It’s a simple brush of resignation, a gray-stained sense of acknowledgement, before it’s pushed away. It’s something I’ve felt many times at this point, but every query sent is attached with a spark of hope. It’s sad to see even a small light blink away.
I think I’m going to set The Midnight Tide aside for the moment. It’s my only finished work, and I love it dearly, but perhaps it’s simply not the right time for it. Maybe different stories need to be heard right now. I recall that Stephen King had to publish his later novels before anyone would publish his first few. Not that I imagine I’ll become the next Stephen King, but it’s cheering to think that we all start in the same place, with that same spark of hope.
It’s a light that never really goes out.