Gratitude Monday - The Good Rejection Edition

I received a wonderful manuscript rejection recently and for it I am grateful.
Why?
Because the rejector took the time to tell me several good points before pointing out a glaring issue that put her off.
This is constructive criticism. It doesn't happen that often. I consider this rejection a blessing because I know now what needs fixing and I can get it done.
I am getting it done now.
It will be out for submission again and when it is it will be better, cleaner, and stronger.
This is good, and for this help I am grateful.

First Rejection In

The week started off with my first rejection from the last batch of queries and proposals. The batch went out earlier this month.
On the whole it was a pleasant enough rejection. It was even a bit helpful in that it thoughtfully listed the reference books available for finding publishers.
Still, it was a standard, general rejection thanking me for thinking of the company and wishing me luck.

On the one hand, when I’ve got queries and proposals out I live in hope. It’s a lovely place and I return there whenever I can and I stay as long as possible.
But on the other hand the quick rejection is humane. And there’s more to come. It was one of half-dozen sent out in this final round.

A few years back my first manuscript had a few bites. My second manuscript had a few as well, though less than the first. So far, the third hasn’t any.
I wonder, shouldn’t this be the other way around?

Oddiversary

Six years ago today I waltzed out of The Mountaineer newspaper office a free woman.
No more early mornings leading to late nights covering events. No more weekend work. No more deadlines.

I’d liberated myself from the tyranny of a regular paycheque.
No more social interaction either. Those days were behind me.
It took some getting used. For several weeks I had this posted on my refrigerator: “Do not go to the office. You don’t work there anymore.”
I was set to devote my time to writing. My plan was simple.

1. Write a book.
2. Get it published.
3. Earn royalties.

I was so sure that by now I’d have book on the shelf. It’s what I want.
Writing’s gratifying. Getting money for it is great. But it’s the satisfaction-–I presume—of wandering around better bookstores everywhere and seeing a book with my name on it that really speaks to me.

I recall reading somewhere on the Absolute Write Water Cooler about it taking 10 years from starting a manuscript to getting something publishable published.
Seems to me this was an average. Exceptions abound. Some writers get published right away. Others never.
I choose to believe I’m somewhere in the middle of the pack.

Just because I’m not there yet doesn’t mean I won’t ever be. If this average holds out for me, then I’ve only got four more years of writing, learning, editing, submitting, and being rejected to go.

Six years ago I though it was easy. I was wrong.
Today is the anniversary of that particular bit of cockeyed optimism. I will celebrate later by making note of the rejection from Kensington that I received the other day.

Seems fitting.