No Quitting

Hey, I just got rejected by well-known blogging agent Jennifer Jackson. I am sort of chuffed.

My family asks me if the rejections are depressing, and it's a valid question. For the agents who only wanted a query letter, it means the least. Jackson asks for sample pages, so there's a bit of a sting there, because secretly of course we dream that our brilliant writing is going to knock everyone's socks off. But it only stung for a minute.

In the end, the fact that I finished a novel and had the balls to send it out wins over all. It's a very, very big deal. There is major personal stuff that goes into doing that - it has to do with how you see yourself, and what you think you can achieve in life, and whether you deserve to do better by yourself. It has to do with what you want, reaching deep to assess how much you want it, how much you'll sacrifice for it, and whether you want to end your life by saying "I should have..." It has to do with deciding to stand up and try instead of sitting on the sidelines, wishing. It's sappy, but it's completely true.

Most people want to write a novel, and few do it. Most people would love to try and get published, but never do. I finally filled out my form and applied for RWA Pro status, which is the status they give to writers who can prove they finished their novel and sent it out. You get, er, a pin or something. It sounds like a lame "You're a winner!" thing but really it's a good idea. They recognize that to get this far, you've had to push yourself, grow as a person, step up, try something new and scary. You're out of the small leagues and into the medium-sized ones.

So no, rejections don't really bother me. Tomorrow I turn 32. Barring cancer or dementia, that gives me about 40 more years of trying before I finally say "Screw this!" and go watch whatever crap TV the oldsters are watching in 2046.

Wishing I had tried harder is simply not an option.

Abby