Ah rejection letters...the bane of my existence.
It's days like I'm having this week that I tend to do two things:
1) Question my mental sanity for putting myself through the emotional hijacking that is the marketing process of a novel.
2) Remind myself that J K Rowlings got rejected a whole pile of times before someone picked up "Harry Potter" and made her an uber author.
So now that I've moved on to the acceptance phase after the rejection letter (Thank you Rick Springfield for your BRILLIANT album "Shock/Denial/Anger/Acceptance.) I'm back in the saddle, or desk chair as the case may be, an working on a new opening for "Shara" and killing the prologue, which is something I've toyed with doing for a number of years anyway.
The good news is I get to work on my never ending novel, my "Rose Red" if you will. The bad news is that this is the book of my heart and I'd really, really like to see it, or some version of it, on shelves.
But that's for another day, another agent, another editor.
Meanwhile, this week has been all about registering the kids for school and getting school supplies. Saturday I send hubby off on a jet plane (BTW, HAPPY B-Day Tom!) to his sister's in the mountains of Colorado. So I figure this week is a mulligan and we all get a big do over once in a while, right?
But my cell is ringing "Don't Talk to Strangers" which means someone is ACTUALLY wanting to talk to me. I'll leave you with this thought: A rejection letter isn't the end. It's one more beginning.
You do get much more profound than that!