How Do I Really Feel

Arrrrrgh!

When an agent lets me know why he/she is passing on my manuscript after a request to read more (but not all), do I honestly appreciate the feedback? Do I? As I morph into the spitting image of Munch’s scream subject (obviously a multiply rejected author!), consider taking up cigar smoking, mountain climbing (because why not do it physically as well as mentally), swimming with chum-crazed great white sharks, watching 127 Hours until my brain explodes and/or asking the nearest erupting volcano if it accepts non-virgins as sacrifices? Do I? Eh? Do I?

Because I have a little boy who needs me, none of the above are options, nor is drowning my frustration in all the sweetly potent summer cocktail recipes Sunset Magazine displays in their latest issue. We have breakfast between 5:30 and 6:00a.m. around here. An icy pitcher of berry mojitos followed by an icy pitcher of rye-based sidecar knockoffs in any evening just won’t work…

I orbit erratically back to this post’s question of the day: How do I feel about the Standard Rejection Letter vs. an Agent’s Honest Holy Smackanoly Opinion—and all that opinion might or might not (nicely or not nicely) imply or flat out—um—sigh. Orbiting again.

Oh, just ask me tomorrow.

It’s cookie time.

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About PB Rippey

Writer, mother, wife, 7th gen Californian, and keeper of the mini-zoo.
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Words do not escape you