I’ve started receiving my first rejection emails from agents.
Each one brings with it a complex series of emotions.
First, the excitement of opening the email.
Second, the disappointment in having been rejected.
Finally, the pride in having gotten this far.
I’m receiving rejection emails from literary agents because I wrote a fucking book.
It may never earn me representation. But people have bought it. People are reading it, and enjoying it.
Ultimately, that’s what matters, and that knowledge keeps me energized in this long, slow struggle.