…and you know what? I couldn’t be happier. Don’t get me wrong, I still feel a bitter pang of disappointment at each rejection email, but it’s just that: a pang. Then I close the email and I get on with my day. I don’t let them get me down, and I don’t feel like I’ve done badly.
I still have three agents with the full manuscript and even if they all come back and say it’s not for them, I’ll still feel like I’m making progress. It’s strange. I never wanted to be an author. Something about writing for anything other than myself felt wrong, somehow. Maybe it was because I needed to write in a way I don’t need to these days, and it felt wrong to share. Maybe I just didn’t have enough faith in myself.
All I know is that it’s different now. I’m on a different path. And I’m loving the view.