First one in the e-mail today for the book.  Actually, that’s not true, I did have it rejected by another agent long ago, but I can’t remember her name.  I do remember the feeling of utter joy when that original agent responded to my query with a request for more of the work.  But after that, there was no follow up.

So, this technically is the second rejection.  My friend Matthew’s book was rejected 60 times.  It was just finally picked up.  Which means only 59 more agents to submit to.

Where do I send it next?  I was thinking William/Morris, but I could not for the life of me get their direct webpage to load anything other than vocal/musical bookings.  I tried a number of times last night and nada.

I figure I need to find one agency a night to submit to (not that I’m actually going to submit to one a day, I’m too fucking tired for that right now), and start a list.  I’ll hit up the next 59 agents and keep a tally.

And who knows, maybe it won’t be 60.  Maybe it will be 75, or 100.  Truly, I don’t care.  I wrote the book.  I wrote a book.  I WROTE A BOOK!  That’s what matters.  I can get rejected til the cows come home; yes I am from the Midwest.  As long as I acknowledge that I did the work to prepare for those rejections.

Heck, everybody gets rejected.  And I’ve been rejected loads of times for jobs, dates, schools.  You just saddle back up and check another one off the list.  The nice thing about rejection is that, “now you know”.

Whereas I used to just live in this fantasy world, of wouldn’t it be nice when so and so and I get together.  Wouldn’t it be great when my book gets picked up by Curtis Brown.  Wouldn’t it?  But I didn’t take the action to actually find out.  I would just sort of haphazardly daydream about it.  Because if I took the action and got rejected I’d be crushed.

Well, willingness without action is just fantasy.  And I am striving to live in the present, in reality, so to speak.  And the neat thing about getting rejected is it allows me to move on.  And I’ve gotten faster at it.  I used to pine over a boy, pine.  And it would take me literally years to do anything about it.  And then, oh, the rejection would hurt, hurt, hurt.

Now, I just ask ’em out.  A no is a no, a yes is a yes, and a maybe is a no.  I have gotten a lot of no’s, a few maybes, and a couple of yeses.  And I have killed the fantasy faster each time.  And one of these days, either I’m going to ask out the guy or he’s going to ask me out.  I know that because I’m willing to get rejected.

And I’m willing to have my book rejected again.  As long as I keep sending it out to the universe.  This was not the agent for me, or for my book, and that’s ok, because I know there is one.

I know it.

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