15 rejections to date.
Ouch. Might as well stab me and rub lemon juice in the wound! I'd be lying if I said that my heart doesn't sink just a tad bit, every time I see an envelope in the mail box addressed to ME in MY handwriting. Those depressing self addressed stamped envelopes always mark the assurance of yet another literary rejection.
Oh yeah, and I got THREE today... just in case anyone was wondering.
But then again, I suppose I can't complain... I'm really just impatient.
Oh patience... how I loathe thee. Thou art the worst of all the virtues, highly despised above all others. But, oh patience, the lack of thee acts as a vice upon my heart, ensnaring my senses and skewing my reality! How I hate thee, patience! How I loathe thy very existence!
There isn't really anything I should be worried about....yet.
I suppose in the real world--like anything else worthwhile--publishing is a PROCESS. It takes time. Writing and publishing a good novel doesn't happen overnight. Alas, Stephenie Meyer really was a novelty after all. In the real world, hot, sexy vampire novels don't just magically appear in print after a week (okay, so it was three months), or sell like hot-cakes in the aftermath. Still, regardless of the incredibly short time it took her too get published, and however ABNORMAL that time period was, it sure as heck doesn't keep me from feeling incredibly JEALOUS that my book hasn't sold as fast (oh wait... it hasn't sold at all!!) Shoot, there go all my hopes and dreams making millions on opening weekend.
Life's a drag.
Then again, maybe if I added a unearthly, god-like man with smoldering golden eyes and a hard, marble-like chest into my book, it would sell in three months too.... note to self: add Edward's twin to my political thriller. After all, who says hot guys aren't in politics?!
So while I'm busy re-writing my novel to include a man with non-existent beauty, charm and sparkly skin, I find myself at a cross roads. A point at which my dreams are being challenged. Unlike our beloved and well-known divine vampire writer, the windows of heaven have yet to open up to accept my book as a renowned piece of literary prowess that will live in the pages of history forever. Instead, as I sit here struggling to move forward with continuous optimism, I must ask myself if I will continue to move on this path. After all, the choices are simple. Will I take the easy, well-traveled road, forget about my lofty dreams and come slamming back down to earth with cool indifference? Or will I make the most out of the hard, road less traveled, and fight like the devil with a vengeance to keep my head in the clouds with my dreams?
Ouch. Might as well stab me and rub lemon juice in the wound! I'd be lying if I said that my heart doesn't sink just a tad bit, every time I see an envelope in the mail box addressed to ME in MY handwriting. Those depressing self addressed stamped envelopes always mark the assurance of yet another literary rejection.Oh yeah, and I got THREE today... just in case anyone was wondering.
But then again, I suppose I can't complain... I'm really just impatient.
Oh patience... how I loathe thee. Thou art the worst of all the virtues, highly despised above all others. But, oh patience, the lack of thee acts as a vice upon my heart, ensnaring my senses and skewing my reality! How I hate thee, patience! How I loathe thy very existence!There isn't really anything I should be worried about....yet.
I suppose in the real world--like anything else worthwhile--publishing is a PROCESS. It takes time. Writing and publishing a good novel doesn't happen overnight. Alas, Stephenie Meyer really was a novelty after all. In the real world, hot, sexy vampire novels don't just magically appear in print after a week (okay, so it was three months), or sell like hot-cakes in the aftermath. Still, regardless of the incredibly short time it took her too get published, and however ABNORMAL that time period was, it sure as heck doesn't keep me from feeling incredibly JEALOUS that my book hasn't sold as fast (oh wait... it hasn't sold at all!!) Shoot, there go all my hopes and dreams making millions on opening weekend.Life's a drag.
Then again, maybe if I added a unearthly, god-like man with smoldering golden eyes and a hard, marble-like chest into my book, it would sell in three months too.... note to self: add Edward's twin to my political thriller. After all, who says hot guys aren't in politics?!
So while I'm busy re-writing my novel to include a man with non-existent beauty, charm and sparkly skin, I find myself at a cross roads. A point at which my dreams are being challenged. Unlike our beloved and well-known divine vampire writer, the windows of heaven have yet to open up to accept my book as a renowned piece of literary prowess that will live in the pages of history forever. Instead, as I sit here struggling to move forward with continuous optimism, I must ask myself if I will continue to move on this path. After all, the choices are simple. Will I take the easy, well-traveled road, forget about my lofty dreams and come slamming back down to earth with cool indifference? Or will I make the most out of the hard, road less traveled, and fight like the devil with a vengeance to keep my head in the clouds with my dreams?Fear not, fluffy cherubic-like clouds, vast amounts of open blue sky and brilliant bright sunlight... my place is still with you.
No comments:
Post a Comment