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.
