I’ve done a miserable job at getting rejections lately. But I’m also not getting accepted, so there’s that, too. It means that in the last week I’ve only achieved one thing.
It’s my least favorite word in the entire dictionary. I’ve never really been one for sitting still or not progressing. This exact line of thought was where I was last night as I planned out cover reveals and book blog tours to help successful authors grow their reader base. Some part of my worries that I’m going to become the writer equivalent of Mary Fiore (always the planner, never the bride) and…well…blogging is great fun and all, and I love meeting new readers, but I have to keep my gaze constantly at the horizon.
This must be one of the battles one faces when collecting their marvelous rejections. After a few, you start to wonder if it’s ever going to change. Querying for months with nothing really promising and you think, “Maybe the book isn’t good enough.” “Maybe I’m not good enough.” “Maybe it’ll never happen.” “Maybe I need a snack.”
I am a little hungry.
I didn’t submit anywhere at all this past week. Instead, I took a deep breath, an extra look at the last critique that I received, and started plotting revisions.
That would be fourth revisions.
Submissions: 15 / Rejections: 3