Came home after a long day to find a rejection note and returned manuscript from Rita Rozenkrantz in NY. "I would find this book hard to sell," was her hand written comment. As I walked to the front door from my car after driving home from a totally boring day at a bureaucratic grants training, I flinched from the dagger in my heart.
I know agents have to choose, but sometimes they are tactless in their honesty. The mail date told me she probably had the proposal in her hands for less than a day!
Okay that officially makes six rejections: batting 6 for 10.
These messages from the "world" can be one of two things: 1.) revelations about how out of touch I am with the culture; 2.) revelations about how out of touch the agent is with the culture. I suppose there is a third: 3.) they mean nothing in particular. That's even worse!
After two glasses of wine I feel appreciably inebriated to pass into sleep and get up to another day when my dream might have a chance.
It's hard to write after this. But, I am sure I will revive and write anyway. Come to think of it, I really don't give a damn. I write everyday regardless, and I don't know why. It's just part of me and the day, like the coffee I brew each day. It's all part of orienting myself to the universe and trying to make some kind of meaning out of my life.
Sobered Susan
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