Time of Death: Now

It’s always a sad day to close the lid on a novel. To admit to yourself (and to the world) that the thing you wrote and edited and loved just isn’t going to make it. And so I am sounding a solemn dirge today for novel 7. In fact, I actually declared it Over and Done on August 23, closing out the last lingering queries and shading its spreadsheet tracker to gray. But today I am finally taking the time to mourn that little guy, who I loved so much.

You were fantastic, novel 7!

Novel 7 was conceived on June 14, 2014. At least, that is the day I created a WikidPad file and began to type up some of the notes that were accumulating in my writing notebook. I sketched out characters and locations, developed mythical mythologies and pantheons. The plot bunnies that had been cavorting about my brain started to get corralled into an outline. The outline went through multiple iterations, as I attempted to decide whether I would use a multiple or single POV for the story. It seemed to cry out for single POV—it was truly the story of this one god—but I worried that it would be too slight in that form. I planned out a beefier multi-POV version, but it didn’t feel right. I settled on the single POV and wrote up a scene plan.

And so novel 7 was born on June 17, 2014, when I created the draft 1 file. It started that day with a modest 1k, but it quickly grew under my fingers. By the end of June 2014, it was almost 15k strong. It lived and breathed, begging to be developed. I wrote like a madwoman that July, spurred on by unemployment and loneliness in part, but mostly answering that siren’s call of creation. And on August 11, 2014, that first draft rested complete at barely 41k words.

Well, that wouldn’t do at all. It was novel 7, not novella 7! I let it rest while I turned my attentions to a doomed #PitchWars bid for novel 6. Eventually, I came back. I re-read, made notes. I wrote a new scene plan. On October 8, 2014, I started a second draft. It was difficult but rewarding to find the areas to tease out more story, to fill in some of the gaps my initial rush had missed. The second draft came to rest on December 13, 2014 at close to 58k.

Still, I knew it wasn’t enough. I went back through, armed with post-it notes and a dazzling array of colored pens. I sought critiques and beta readers. I vowed that I would do justice to this story that resonated through me. I wrestled with every scene, contemplated adding entire new storylines, and eventually settled on to a final version of novel 7. It was about 63k words.

I sent out the first query on February 2, 2015. I overhauled my query countless times. I worked on a synopsis, which I actually liked. I overhauled the query again. I queried more, and more, and more. I racked up rejections and non-responses, moped about it, and sent out more queries. I sent my 96th and last query on August 7, 2015. Overall, I had 2 partial requests (1 form rejected, 1 never heard from again) and 1 full request (polite rejection). Not the greatest track record. It was time to admit defeat.

I can’t say for sure what it was that did in novel 7. I did not receive a lot of personalized responses from the professionals, and the beta readers seemed to love it. I suspect it was the length, which at 63k for adult fantasy is LOW. I knew that going in, but I had told the story I wanted to tell. I still think it is the best piece I have ever written. (Disappointing, in fact, to know that novel 8 is so much worse and wonder if I peaked with an unpublishable novel.) Perhaps someday it will find a home, but for now, the coffin is closed and the nails driven. RIP, novel 7.

Looking Back to Augusts Past

Summer begins to fade into autumn, like it does every year. Living in San Diego buffers me from this reality, somewhat. It is easy to let the sunny days slide away, one after another, sure that they will continue in an unabated stream. And yet, the days do grow shorter, and time is, in fact, passing.

Such are the thoughts I have, teetering on the edge of another August. August for me marks a turning point in the year. Suddenly my mind is racing to catch up with the reality that, yes, another year is passing without anything I can do to stop it (or speed it up, as the case may be). Summer days seems unbearably precious, knowing that the 5 PM darkness is coming up. And it’s far, far too easy to look back at previous Augusts and despair over how little progress I’ve made since then.

Let’s consider. Last August, I was searching for a job to replace my forfeited Navy career. I had abundant free time, and was using that to the best of my ability. I was coming out of a July with record-high wordcounts, churning out words faster than I ever had before. I was excited by my new project (novel 7) and full of hopes for #PitchWars. And then, by the end of the month, I had found that new day job, my wordcounts had plunged, and I had to admit that novel 7 was a slight creature that might never be marketable for traditional publishing. Still, I felt close. I felt more like a real writer than ever. Would I have believed that, a year later, I would be staring down 100 rejections for novel 7, pushing myself to finish novel 8’s first draft, contemplating another #PitchWars submission for novel 6, and honestly no closer to “making it” than before?

Two years ago, it was August 2013, and I was mired in a low period. I didn’t update my blog for months, I wrote almost nothing, and after setting a goal to finish novel 6’s first draft in July, I was still months away from achieving that. I was caught up in the real life of the Navy and moving in with my boyfriend and struggling to believe in myself. Imagine how much worse would my low period have been if I could have seen that, 2 years in the future, I would still be fighting with novel 6, without even a sure answer about what needs to be fixed after several drafts and beta reads and about 50 rejections.

Even further back, I find this post in August 2012 reaffirming—trying to convince myself—that I will continue, despite the challenges. I reference this post about what might happen if I never get anywhere with my work. It includes the closing thought “I still have a few years yet before I abandon this dream, but lord how I hope I don’t have to!” Reading that now, when it has been a few years and I still am plagued by the doubts and fears about wasting my time, well, it’s painful, honestly. Knowing that since then I have written THREE new manuscripts and yet still don’t seem to have the keys to writing one that works. Not yet.

In the waning summer of 2011, I was writing about writer’s block and my embarrassment at my lack of writerly accomplishments. I vowed to be better, to do better. And yet, four years later, I still haven’t mastered the art of writing consistently (although there has been a vast improvement). The improvements I have made have not translated into any tangible benefits except an ever-growing pile of words without readers.

Even back in 2010, when this blog was barely started, August was a time of posts about writer's block. That was the month I finished the first draft of novel 1, and yet still, only a few weeks later, I could not manage to write a thing!

Reading through these old August musings, I am struck by one thought above all. No matter how often I get down, no matter how frustrating it is or how little the words flow, I have not given up. And I won't give up. Writing is a part of me, for better or for worse. And while it is easy to despair over the lack of progress I have made, that would be a shame, because I have accomplished a lot. I've written hundreds of blog posts. I've met and friended other writers. I've written hundreds of thousands of words, sent hundred of queries, applied to contests, published on Wattpad, created a video series, I have written books! It's not nothing.

A few weeks ago, I was musing about the future to my boyfriend, and I posited that five years from now I could not really predict anything about my life. Even whether I would still be writing, given that another five years of rejection sounds almost impossible to overcome. I asked him, "Do you think I'll ever stop writing?" He did not hesitate a second. "No." He knows me better than anyone, and I think he has the right of it. Writing is in me, it has been for literally as long as I can remember, and while it may ebb and flow, I doubt it will ever leave me.

So take that, August doldrums! I am not defeated yet!

Four “Comforting” Things People Say to Pre-Published Writers (That are NOT)

4. You finished a book! Most people will never manage that!

Yeah, okay. I finished a book. Yay me! It is a big accomplishment, but it’s also one that I hit for the first time when I was 13. I’ve written almost SIX books now. It is hard to see writing additional books as anything but a failure—as in, I’ve written six fucking books that I can’t sell. I’m just piling up rubbish manuscripts, and that doesn’t feel like an accomplishment at all.

3. But writing is its own reward! Don’t think about getting published!

Writing is hard goddamn work. Which doesn’t mean that it can’t be its own reward, but it isn’t something that fills my life with rainbows and sunshine. I do derive great pleasure from perfecting a turn of phrase or making a plot come together just so. Obviously I must enjoy it for its own sake on some level or I wouldn’t still be doing it. And for some people, just writing is their goal. That’s great! But for me, I want to share my writing. And while I do that in various forms already, the biggest way that writers share their work is by publishing. That is my goal.

2. Well, I’ve read your stuff, and it’s so good!

I know, complaining about praise seems churlish. And I do love getting feedback of all kinds on my writing (seriously, I crave it, harsh or kind), and positive feedback can make me feel like a thousand bucks. But in the context of publishing, it’s disheartening. Because if I’m so good, then I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, which means I can’t fix it. And I’ll spend another 14 years doing whatever I’m doing and not getting anywhere with it. And even if I really am good (doubtful), then it just makes it feel unfair (ha, I know, that word) that I haven’t had any luck at all wading through the slush.

1. Yes, agents get tons of queries, but 90% of them are pure crap—can’t follow guidelines, can’t string together a sentence, can’t even spell check! The odds aren’t actually that bad for the good ones.

On first blush, this should be a good thing. I do research agents and their guidelines and requests extensively, and I do spend a lot of time and effort perfecting my query letter. I proofread and edit and still have not ever accidentally sent out one with the wrong name. So I should be ahead of the game! Except I’m not. Which means—oh gods, I must be the 90%. I must not be good at all. Worse, I am one of those delusional people who thinks she is doing okay. But I can’t even beat out the half-trained monkeys sending “To Whom It May Concern” queries about their sparkly teenage vampires. Fuck.

Anyway, I know this is all very complainypants, but I’m in a complainypants space right now. I may or may not have cried myself to sleep last night, as my queries for novel 7 draw to a close and novel 8 continues to refuse to come together. I’m feeling discouraged, and I want to feel uplifted, but it seems that every “inspiring” quote or post is just making me feel worse. I think maybe I need to disconnect from the writing community for a little while, do what I can for this first draft of novel 8, and remember that I do love writing for what it is—and right now, it definitely not is getting read.

Case of the Mondays

Some days are harder than others.

This morning the alarm went off and I groaned. I can’t face today. I just want to sleep forever. But instead I roll over and shuffle to the bathroom. I brush my teeth in a Monday morning fog and sit down at my computer with a sense of dread. But I am here. I am doing it. The words trickle out—it’s a slow morning for me, not even 600 words, but I did it. I sat here for my morning writing session and did what I could. That’s a victory. My Monday is already looking up.

The feeling doesn’t last. I scan my query list. Outstanding queries waiting to be closed for no response. An ever-dwindling number of agents left to query. The palpable feeling of failure that accompanies yet another soon-to-be-trunked novel. I really liked this one, but no one else does. Why? No idea. I haven’t netted a single non-form rejection that would give me any insight.

The worst part—the thing that makes me want to cry into my afternoon tea—is that I am doing everything I can. I quite honestly have no idea what else to do. It is the thing I want most in my life, one of the very few things that I have any ambition about at all, and I am floundering. “The secret to getting published is writing a great novel,” people advise. I envision them nodding sagely to each other behind publishing contracts. I fucking know that. I’m doing my best. I write a novel and edit it and love it and then trunk it and try again. I kill my darlings and write new darlings, I practice my writing and buff up on my comma placement and sentence structure. I take it very seriously. I read books and articles on craft and the writing business. I pore over agent details, trying to concoct that perfect line of personalization that will make them spend more than .4 seconds on my query.

None of it works.

So where do I go from here? What else is there to do? I’m getting a worse response for novel 7 than novel 6. I could hardly be said to be improving in any meaningful sense of the word. I am willing to do things, but I don’t know what things to do. My options are to give up, which makes me a quitter and guarantees I will never achieve that dream, or to keep doing this, which is the definition of insanity.

Critique Blog Hop!

So as I recently finished up novel 7, I've been getting into the exciting/nerve-wracking stage of submitting it! Oh, the joys of querying. Anyway, I've had zero success in two contests now and so far no positive responses from the first batch of queries. It's enough to make a writer want to crawl into a hole and say "Sorry for bothering." But that's not me! So instead I am joining the Critique Blog Hop hosted as a follow-on to the Sun vs. Snow contest. If you would like to participate, follow the link--you submit your entry and crit 10 other entries. Or if you would just like to offer any feedback to me here, I am always looking for ways to improve! And with no further ado, I present to you my novel 7!

 

Short pitch:
 

A jaded god has to beat his ennui in order to save his family, his people, and his home from a roving gang of displaced gods.

 

Query:
 

Being a god is a decent gig, but Vassyr can only spend so many centuries seducing mortal women and antagonizing his older sister. So when he discovers a way off their world, he doesn't stop for half a second to listen to her objections. Sure, she says he owes the mortals something and should be doing more, but Vassyr knows she loves doing it all herself. He simply can't listen to one more prayer from some farmer's son dying to become a hero.

In the face of an alluring array of new worlds to explore, it's easy to forget about the tedious responsibilities and family he abandoned. But although Vassyr is four thousand years old, he's no better than a naïve mortal out in the wider universe. When he carelessly insults a roving gang of displaced gods, he becomes a casualty of their desperate search for a new home. Worse, he reveals the location of his world.

Vassyr's home may have seemed stifling to him, but to these gods, it is a target ripe for annexation—and they don't care who is killed in the process. As his world is ravaged in the battle between his family and the interlopers, Vassyr realizes that being a god comes with some real responsibilities after all. He has to find a way to protect the mortals, convince his sister to trust him again, and send the trespassers packing while there is still a home left to save.

 

First 250 words:
 

Vassyr hit the mortal with a thick chunk of air. Not hard—he was just after a bit of fun, not punishment. The mortal rubbed the back of his head and looked around the common room, frowning. Vassyr had to bite on the knuckles of his left hand to stifle a giggle. He could almost hear his sister's scolding that giggles weren't godlike, but he didn't give a shit about that. But if the mortals heard laughter from an apparently empty chair, they'd probably declare the place haunted and take to their heels. Idiots. Not that it wouldn't be amusing, but that wasn't his plan. He used his free hand to send another swat of air sailing through the tavern.

"Who was that?" roared a big beast of a man. He pushed his chair back, spilling his ale in an amber pool.

No one answered, or even dared to meet the man's eye. Trying to save their skins, no doubt—cowards, the lot of them. What else could one expect of mortals? Vassyr bit his lip and made another flick. A man sitting two tables away sprang to his feet, one hand clasping the back of his neck. A dagger was already unsheathed in his other hand.

"What do you mean by that?"

Vassyr flicked again, and now he was able to let his laughter loose. There was more than enough noise to mask it. The big man had picked up an entire bench and was waving it around rather indiscriminately, and the brawl was inevitable from there.

Am I Good Enough? How Do I Know?

I don’t think artists and writers are, in general, known for being completely calm, level-headed, secure people. Stereotype it may be, but I sure live up to the idea of a writer whose confidence varies wildly, rising to euphoric heights before crashing down so low I just want to curl up in a ball and moan “Whyyyy did I think I could do this??”

And I’m in the latter phase right now.

Editing for novel 7 has been slow. And not just slow but excruciating. Completing even a single scene, which may involve as few as 100 new words and some minor information dropped or a twirl of description added, seems like a gargantuan effort of will. I look at my list of revision notes and wonder why I so blithely dashed off notes to myself about entire new worlds and scenes to populate. And most of all, I look at the manuscript that I once loved and I think—I can’t do this. I don’t have what it takes.

It’s not just this revision or this manuscript or this moment in time, either. It’s the long slog of an unpublished writer. I read constantly about the hundreds of rejections that published authors had to overcome. I know about the endless rounds of querying and the “it just takes one yes!” mantra. So I, like many others, chin up and soldier forward, in search of that elusive agent, that elusive contract, the elusive dream of my book on a shelf for readers to enjoy.

But how do you know if you’re on the “hundreds of rejections before I found my agent” path or the “hundreds of rejections followed by hundreds more” path? Basically, how do you know if you’re actually good enough?

For a lot of people—myself included—this is a large part of the draw of trad publishing. I don’t think I could deal with the soul-crushing defeat of self-publishing and then no one reading it. It would be the end of my writerly aspirations, the humiliating squeak with which my unborn career dies. So I churn out query letters, I read books on craft, I write as much as I can, I read books on editing, I revise my writing, I get betas, I seek feedback, more query letters, endless lists of agents and the frissons of hope at every agent email that lands in my inbox. My turn could be coming.

Or maybe it’s not. There are a million wannabe writers out there, and while it’s nice to believe that none of them have mastered craft and storytelling and grammar like I have, while it’s nice to think none of them know how to follow submission guidelines, that we’re all just grinding out against the faceless wall of “no response means no” until we catch a break that is akin to winning the lottery. But the fact is that there are writers getting signed and published every day—and I’m not one of them. I’m in the slush pile with hundreds and thousands of other writers who are every bit as talented as I am and more.

So how do I know? How do I know if it’s delusion on my part? How do I know if the problem is my query letter or my first page or my first chapter or the whole manuscript or every manuscript I write?

I don’t know. I guess I just have to keep going until I find myself curled up in a ball, moaning, and don’t know how to get up anymore.

July 2014 Wrap-Up (Post #100!)

Update: I just remembered that this was 100th post! I was going to do something special, but this is what I did instead. Yay for the longevity of my writing blog, and here's to another 100 posts! :cheers:

First off, let me say that I know it's Friday, but there isn't a #FlashFridayFootage this week. With my parents in town plus 3 job interviews and trying to get writing done, I didn't have a chance to make a video! But rest assured, it will be back in full swing next Friday!

Now, for July: WOOOOO!

Yup, July was as great as June. Better than June. It was thoroughly awesome and everything I had hoped it would be when I did my June wrap-up. That is not a very common occurrence, so I am fully enjoying the feeling.

Remember how June was my most productive month ever at 15,385? Well, let's just say that record no longer stands. In July I wrote 24,172 words with 8 non-writing days.

Most of those went towards novel 7 (which is turning out to be more like novella 1). I am still having so much fun with this project and think it definitely has amazing potential. Usually at this point I am already hating what I am writing, so it's refreshing to still be excited about it!

As for novel 6, it hasn't had quite such a good run of it. I spent most of the month trying to re-work the query to get my response percentage up, and I'm still not quite happy with it. I submitted to the #NewAgent contest run by Michelle Hauck and had great fun, even if mine didn't make it past the screening. I gathered some new beta feedback, and am ready to push forward with another round of queries as well as #PitchWars in August! Lots of great stuff to look forward to.

Wordcount goal: 104.0%
Non-writing days goal: 125%
Agents queried: 1
Rejections received: 10 forms, 8 closed due to no response

I honestly never knew I could write almost 25k words in a month. It would have been even more, but the first week of July was my boyfriend's last week prior to deployment, and this past week with all the other non-writing stuff it has been a little hectic. A reminder of what it is going to be like when I go back to a full time day job, but hopefully I can still find the energy and motivation to keep trucking with my writing goals. I have accomplished so much over the past 2 months, I don't want to stop now!

So for August, my goal is to finish this first draft of novel 7. Since it is painfully short so far, I estimate another 7000 words should do it. Then I'll let it sit until September. I also want to write some short stories as well as do a light revision of novel 6 before #PitchWars (which starts on August 18!). I have some ideas about novel 8, but I don't think that is going to be an August project for me. Between novel 6 and novel 7, plus toying with resurrecting novel 1, I do not need to add another project right now!

Since I will be doing a bit less original writing in August, I've revised my wordcount goals downwards. However I do still intend to be spending an equivalent amount of time, if not more, working on writing. I should really come up with some metric for editing/revisions. What can I say, I am just a metric-motivated person! So in the first week or two, while I'm finishing novel 7's draft, I'll still aim for 750 words a day. Once that wraps up, it'll drop down to 100 words per day. That puts me at a total goal of 9,600 words! Since I plan to be doing lots of writing work, I'll set my non-writing days goal at 7. One week off throughout the month should be easily doable.

With a good June and July under my belt, I am feeling more and more like a "real" writer and very ready to improve my craft and move to the next level!

The Frustration of Feedback

As my querying goes south, I've been trying to gather more feedback to figure out where I might be going wrong. Looking for new betas for my manuscripts. Sending my query letter through an intensive critiquing over at Absolute Write. Getting books on revising and editing to warm up for my next revision.

Ah, feedback.

It's a double-edged sword, isn't it? As a writer, I want people to read my work. I don't write for myself (I mean I do, in the general sense, but for me the purpose of any specific work is to be read). Knowing how real, actual readers respond to the work is invaluable. But at this stage, the work isn't perfected, at least as much as any finally released product will be. There's so much wrong with it, and it can be hard to show that to another person. What if they think I'm a bad writer forever? Not to mention that hearing harsh criticisms of something that has been the result of months, even years, of work can be difficult.

I have a pretty thick skin. I definitely fall more on the "all the feedback!" side of the spectrum. I want to know where my manuscript falls down. I need the perspective that I can never have as the author. I have no problem sending my manuscript out there to betas or others.

Then the first response comes in. Sure, there's a lot of problems they've found. But it starts to give me an idea of what I need to work on. The manuscript starts to feel fixable.

Then the second response comes in. And, wtf, it's completely different!

Everyone has different preferences in a story. Some people will identify with characters and some won't. The feedback can be all over the place. It can be enough to make the manuscript seem an irredeemable mess. If everyone finds a different problem, that means there are infinite problems!! 

Okay, deep breath.

The great thing about readers is that they are all different. There is no universally beloved book—no, really, not a single one. Gathering a wide range of feedback is excellent, but a manuscript could be crippled by trying to cater to everyone one of them. Just got to take the advice that resonates, fix the unintentional mistakes, look for common issues. And remember: in the end, it's your book. Take what you can use from the feedback, but write the book you want to write!

This is for the guy whose name is an instant touchstone for "brilliant author." And not by some illiterate schmoe.

(PS, if anyone is interested in reading a YA fantasy or adult SF...)

June 2014 Wrap-Up

It's been a while since I've done a monthly summary post. When I'm not producing a new MS, it doesn't really make a whole lot of sense. But since I started a new novel this month, well, here I go!

June was a great month for me in writing. I wrote what I felt to be a kick-ass query. I participated in and "won" #SFFpit. I sent out a ton of queries. I had a plot idea, outlined it, and started writing novel 7. I joined the amazing Absolute Write forums. Being without a day job is undoubtedly good news for my writing. It really makes me want to be able to pursue being a novelist full time. Alas, I don't have the savings for that. So the job hunt continues.

I didn't set any concrete goals for June, except to start the querying process, but if I had I think I would have met them all! Here are the nuts and bolts of June 2014:

Words written: 15,385 (!)*
Non-writing days: 16
Agents queried: 33
Rejections received: 8 forms, 1 from a partial request
Publishers queried: 2
Rejections received: 1 personalized

*This makes June 2014 the most productive month I have ever had for wordcount. At least going back to the inception of my tracker spreadsheet, 2011. That includes an attempt at NaNoWriMo!

With such an excellent June on the books, I just know July is going to be even better. Those June words mostly resulted from a 14 day writing streak on novel 7. I've blogged before about the importance of momentum, and I clearly have it. The streak was broken due to a Disneyland trip yesterday, but tonight it begins again!

So, the goal for July is 750 words a day, for a daunting total of 23,250 words. Also no more than 10 non-writing days! I think that is completely achievable. We'll see!

Setbacks Don't Mean Give Up

It's been an interesting time for me as a writer recently. I was so full of optimism when I set out on my editing journey, and visions of book contracts danced in my dreams. I still feel good about novel 6, but the doubt has begun to creep in. It's slower going than I expected. I'm itching to start something new. I am dreading trying to query. I haven't had any great insights in how to fix a character that maybe isn't working.

I read this post yesterday about whether or not I'm publishable, and I closed the tab with the unshakable feeling that the tea leaves were definitely not in my favor. I was in a really down place. This anxiety over my dead-end future in writing combined with my current looming unemployment to make me feel like a complete loser. But then my boyfriend came home, and after lots of hugs and crying into his shoulder, I began to see things in a better light. So maybe none of my queries have been successful. That's just a problem with my queries. It doesn't say shit about my book, because no one actually read the book. I ended up knocking out another couple scenes and reaching the halfway point of this edit.

Yes, it's been 2 months and I'm only halfway. It's frustrating. I gave myself a 3 month deadline, and obviously I am not on track for that. It's tempting to give up. It's like when you're trying to eat healthy, and you end up having a piece of cake, so then you think "Well, I already fucked up," and go on and eat the entire cake (I'm not the only one that does that, right? RIGHT?!). But eating a whole cake is way worse than eating a piece, and giving up on something because I'm behind is way worse than just finishing late. So it's time to gird my loins, buckle down, and finish what I've started. And maybe eat some cake.

I'm not kidding about the cake. This was mine and my boyfriend's Saturday night last month!

Hell, it's not even too late for me to make a good push and still meet my end-of-April deadline!

Rejection Collection

I have mentioned before that I have a positive relationship with my rejection letters. I have been submitting things and being rejected for them for years--honestly I do not even remember how long ago my first submission was. Sadly, that letter is lost. The earliest letter that I have saved in my collection is from the summer of 2004. That may not sound so long ago, but at the time I was 16 and preparing to enter my senior year of high school, so it certainly seems ages ago to me!

I am in dead seriousness when I say I have a collection. Proof:

Sure, it's cheesy. (Yes, that is crayon!) But I love it. Even when I receive them by email, I print them out so I can add them to my binder. It reminds me that, however stagnant I might feel, I do produce work. Okay, maybe not work that anyone wants to publish, but so what? No one gets published right away. And someday, when I do get that yes, I will have this as proof that I have worked my butt off.

So today, as I sent off a slew of queries, I am not scared about the rejections I know I'll get back. I'm excited to add to my rejection collection!