It is a sad day for my first novel. I officially received forty-five rejections, and the one request for a partial was returned today. It didn't "resonate" with the agent, which is a nice way of saying "it sucked." To be honest, it probably does suck. Even so, I must admit that I am more than a little bit crushed.
Gone are my secret dreams of immediate greatness. I haven't lost my desire to write, but my eagerness to become a published author has waned. I'd hardly be human if I didn't admit that rejection hurts.
On the bright side, I got a lovely "I'm sorry and still think you're great" BBQ popcorn kiss from my husband. The smell of his breath continues to linger in the air.
And the weekend isn't a complete wash. The English department had a "good riddance" party for those of us leaving, and one of my co-workers had some very kind remarks for me. It looks like I did a bang-up job of convincing them I'm a good teacher. All those acting classes came in handy!
I am worried about the state of my classroom when I return on Monday. The ants (and that is not a code name for something else. I do, literally, mean ants) were attempting a take-over on Thursday. They were aggressive a few weeks ago, but came back with a vengeance when they discovered my students were making literature dioramas using candy Peeps. I sprayed them with wipe-off-board spray, but that will only hold them for so long. Little bastards.
Beth - 0 Literary Agents - 45 Ants - ?