because God knows I’ll be blogging the crap out of the offers.
I almost feel as though I shouldn’t.
As though saying to the world that six out of eight of the submissions to editors were rejected so far would make it more real than it is. And bring me bad luck. Cause I’m not swirling in a vat of not so great fortune right now.
I feel like an idiot even though everyone in the world who wants to write something goes through this.
Perhaps I’ve been too lucky until now so the universe must pay me back.
I got my agent, who is wonderful, the first shot out. She is great to work with and maybe I’m now spoiled by it all.
Surprisingly, I don’t feel that bad. Not the way I thought I would anyway. Or maybe I’m still in shock. My brain not yet aware my fantasies of a three book deal and $100,000 advance have evaporated into thin air.
But then again, I have great friends telling me the editors must not have even read the manuscript (I’m not sure one of them did based on her comments) to have turned it down. They tell me it’s great. I’m great. And that makes life so nice.
Though, having an editor say she loved the shit out of the book wouldn’t be so bad, either.