It happened. My book The Painters got it’s first rejection from a publisher. Duh duh DUH!
I don’t know, maybe I should be more upset about this? There was a while right after I got the letter where I did feel like shedding a few a tears (of course, I get teary-eyed about EVERYTHING now days–maybe that comes with age?), but then I just started feeling really proud of myself.
I mean, I wrote a book. I wrote a whole stinking book. And then I didn’t just get it into the hands of a publisher, I went right up to him and looked him straight in the eye and said, “Marry me!” (Just kidding. Arrested Development reference.)
Anyway, the point is that I had the guts to put myself out there and I’ve got no regrets about it. If I’m honest, I don’t think I was ready to let the book get published yet anyway. I didn’t realize it then, but I’ve realized it since and now I have the time I need to really make this book what I want it to be.
Funnily enough the rejection ended up just motivating me something crazy, and I’ve been working harder than ever on this little baby of mine. I’ve never BEEN so excited about it. And I can’t wait until it’s truthfully all grown up and ready to take its first steps into the world.
I have no doubt that when the book is ready, I’ll find the right publisher. I just have to keep trying. Which is something I happen to be pretty good at.