I arrived back from my holiday and found my first rejection on the doormat. It was a polite letter, but a standard, non-personalised one. Of course, I was disappointed (swallows hard and sobs), but I feel I have passed a milestone, lost my publishing virginity, joined the ‘normal’ throng of writers.
Of course, I sent off to another agent straight away. It’s a reflex from many years of running a small business – when a contract pitch doesn’t work, you get on and contact the next company on your selected list of leads.
Perhaps it also goes back to when as a child I fell over and after a brief hug, and a wipe of the knee, from my mother I brushed the tears away, got up and ran off playing again. I was soon back laughing and shrieking with my friends, having completely forgotten the earlier fall.
So, Pollyanna-ish, I wait to hear from the next agent…