I checked the email I reserve for all things writing-related just before lunch today. I’m a glutton for punishment; there was a part of me that was
expecting hoping to see four emails telling me that my work wasn’t great and that they were passing on my novel.
What I found was one email:
Thank you for sharing your work with me. You write well, but I’m afraid that I just didn’t connect with this in the way that I’d hoped. Still, I hope you will continue writing and sending out your work.
Translation: It’s not you; it’s me.
The really crazy thing is that this particular agent is one that I had researched and thought, Hmm, I don’t know if she’d love my novel the way I’d want her to. But as she requested a query and a few pages, I submitted. It wouldn’t be the first time that my gut instinct was wrong.
So getting a rejection letter from her – and such a positive one, at that – was kind of, well, not heartbreaking. I described it to my friend thus:
It’s like when you only like a guy because your friends told you he likes you but then you find out he really doesn’t like you, after all.
Yeah, it’s like that. Disappointing, but not disheartening.
But here’s the thing: Everyone gets rejected at some point. I mean, not everyone will love my work. I guess I could hope that everyone loves it, but the reality is different. So it’s okay.
Anyway, another agent (one I had been
stalking studying following on Twitter) asked to see my full manuscript, so I’m not out of the game by any means.
All the same, a rejection is still a rejection, as subjective as this industry is.
Guess this makes me a real writer now!