I wrote a while ago about being bummed that an agent had rejected my book query in just under an hour. That’s like going home in the middle of a first date.
She didn’t even make me wait three months before throwing me under the bus, the train and the semi.
So I’m all bummed thinking, “I’m no good. I can’t write. I’m a failure.” I wasn’t even sure I should belong to a critique group, I felt o pitiful and inadequate.
But I trudged forward as always.
So, at last night’s meeting, my pages were well received. No, I take that back. They liked them a lot. Now that’s a pendulum swing.
At the end of the session, we have a short discussion about my sad email rejection. A fellow (published and dedicated) writer asks how many rejections I’ve received.
“Six,” I reply, “Four of which were personalized.” I’m thinking that’s a lot.
She looks at me like I’m insane, which I am, but not because of agent rejections.
“I had forty,” she said.
So, last night I found out that I’m not some delusional guy churning out gibberish and that I have many more rejections to endure before calling myself truly rejected.
Finally, I rejoice that I have fellow writers who are talented and support each other in our quest to become better at our craft.
My critique group rocks!