The night I finished my first middle-grade novel will never be forgotten. After years of working, editing, tweaking and perfecting my first novel I was thrilled to say I did it. I wanted to jump out into the waters of the publishing world and hope that someone somewhere would bite at the bait I was dangling.
After two writing courses and lots of constructive criticism I was encouraged to start submitting. My instructor even advised that my novel would probably get picked up quicker than I could imagine. I was psyched that a critically acclaimed author was telling me that my work was good enough to catch someone’s eye. I was hopeful and immediately began sending out queries in hopes of landing an agent. Five rejections later and my hope is diminishing. Don’t get me wrong, I am not a quitter. I will send out a million queries if I have to until I find someone to believe in me. The more rejections, the harder the fight, the sweeter the victory, I have my eyes on the prize and won’t give up until I get it.
I wrote down in my journal-“I must love to write. Why else would I subject myself to constant rejection.”
My question tonight is…
How many times were you rejected before you got good news?