You see, I received yet another rejection letter. And I had been so hopeful about this one. I have one more response to await, and I'm no longer hopeful about it, regarding this particular manuscript. If it is, as I suspect it will be, yet another rejection, I will try one more publisher. If that fails, which I feel like it might, then fuck it, I'm self-publishing this one.
It's a good story. I believe in it. It's going to be a book, come hell or high water.
Because I am a stubborn bitch.
Anyway, I have only myself to blame for the bitter taste in my mouth right now. I set my expectations too high. That's a dangerous game in publishing.
I'm also angry at myself for letting myself hope so damned hard. That's the real reason I'm feeling this way. I know the game better than that.
And then there is the small matter of professional jealousy. A friend of mine has revealed (privately) that he has a contract in hand, waiting to be signed. I'm ridiculously happy for him. And I know that he certainly deserves it. He's a great writer, and he's hauled arse to get where he is. You can bet your arse I'll be blasting the news everywhere when I'm allowed to.
And I'm jealous.
And I'm angry at myself for getting jealous. He deserves it. He's a fantastic writer. He's worked so, so hard. He's good people. I'm sure I wouldn't be nearly as perturbed if his wonderful news (and it is wonderful news) hadn't arrived immediately after I read that rejection email. Sorry, friend. Please know that I actually am very thrilled for you. You really do deserve it.
So here's the emotional shit-storm I'm dealing with currently:
Angry (at myself).
Angrier (at myself).
Of course, I am now an adult, and so won't be letting this vortex of negativity to affect my relationships at all. I'll just be wallowing in private. But just in case you meet me on the street and I'm scowling like an angry leopard, you know why. Best if you steer clear for now.
So this is the publishing journey, folks. Isn't it fucking glamorous?
I'll get over it. I just needed to vent a bit.
Also, I should note, I am in no way angry at the publisher or my friend. They're not responsible for my stupidity. I'm just feeling bad today. It'll pass.
So now let's hear from you. What are some of the things that make you angry at yourself?