So many of us take pleasure (I know I often do) in other people's pain. "At least my life isn't as bad /crazy/pathetic as theirs," is a good feeling to have when hearing about others' miseries . Thus in the interest of the world at large, I write this post.
And what pray, you ask, prompted that sentiment? Rejection number five. Some hours ago, as a matter of fact. This editor, I'll call him Jaikishen Batra to protect his identity, likes the novel (called it an ambitious effort). But he wasn't blown away by the writing. In this difficult market, my writing though adequate and nice isn't enough to make a splash. So some editors think I can write but think the novel too quiet. Then there are these new ones who don't think I can write well enough. I need to find that one person who thinks I can do both and the real danger is that the rejections I start getting from now on may well be from people who don't think I can do either i.e. the novel and my writing stinks. Must brace myself for this eventuality...
I just started reading Sideways (remember the movie with Paul Giamatti). This man is a kindred with his wall covered by rejection slips and hanging by a thread with an agent slowly losing interest in what will never be a big deal maker. It's nice to be able to say you truly understand how the protagonist of the novel you're reading feels. Except of course I am a bit spoiled in that I don't have to worry about paying the rent (thank goodness!).
Now I know many would think, and so do I, trust me, that maybe my work truly isn't that good. It doesn't stink perchance, but more than likely, although good enough for friends and family, the book just doesn't have what it takes to make the cut for commercial publishing.
There is probably a lot of truth in that but I have shed too much blood, sweat and tears to not at least try, give this my best shot and only then hang up my laptop. Besides, in the midst of this already tumultuous submission process, that sort of thinking won't get me anywhere. So, even if I am one of very few, for now, I continue to believe in myself and my work.
Aaargh, I hear soft footsteps...my son hasn't napped for his second afternoon in a row. Must try and not panic, for I got the horrid mommy memo that kids start to wean off naps at around age three. I never thought it would happen to me given the strict, efficient disciplinarian mum I think I am. Obviously whatever I am doing isn't cutting it on this front either...this just isn't my day, my week, my year.
C'est la vie...but now that I have vented...I mean shared this latest development, I shall go for a run and mull over yet another business venture or book to fail at and following that I shall try and get drunk on Pinot Noir which I don't even like.
Thank you all for listening.
Elvis has left the building...
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