My book is finished. Now begins the query agent business. So far I've sent out three queries with three rejections. Hundreds of rejections isn't unusual but I don't have that kind of time. I'm not some 20- or 30-year-old with years ahead of me. I'm not married with a husband to support me. I don't even have a job!
It's difficult to remain optimistic in the face of rejection. Especially for a pessimist. One blow and my instinct is to say fuck it. But if I learned one lesson from my years at the Home of Dashed Hopes, it's that dashing hopes is something we do to ourselves. Even though I'm not sure how much control we have over our lives, we do have control over how we deal with what we're handed - or not handed. I do believe that like attracts like. And I try to believe that "at the moment of commitment, the universe conspires to assist [us]."
I just don't want to be like Stieg Larsson who dies of a heart attack after delivering his three Lisbeth Salander books to his editor. Or Nuala O'Faolain who is learning and loving in her sixties only to fall victim to a brain tumor. Or worse yet, my daughter winds up getting my book published after I die. Oh wait. That's a rather pessimistic view, isn't it? Damn, how easy it is to fall back into old patterns.
Here's a better attitude: One day those three agents are gonna regret rejecting my book.
