A week ago I received my letter that officially gives back the rights to my novel.
So here we are, back at square one.
I had a lot of dreams in the past year that my novel was under contract. Had dreams of selling books, of getting readers, of having nationwide, perhaps even worldwide exposure. I had dreams of praise, dreams of getting reviewed.
Dreams of money.
When I actually received that letter, I realized that this rejection hurts a bit more than I thought it would.
Now it's back to the drawing board.
I queried an agent by e-mail. She's got a long track record and has placed books that are similar in some respects to mine, so I feel pretty confident that if this agent represents my book that it will go places. I'm actually pretty optimistic; I think she'll love it, and I think she'll get me a much better deal than I had with my previous publisher.
Optimism only gets you so far, though. I want to be published, I want to be on the goddamn shelf of every bookstore. I want to have something to look forward to, you know?
Meanwhile, my second novel, Four Corners, has been delayed for a while now, as I'm trying to learn HTML and my moods have been up and down the last week.
I'm busy. Things to do. There's always too many things to do.
I'd rather be dreaming . . .