You think a girl would learn.
A few months ago, I made the decision to retire my novel from the querying market. It was really hard at first. I had started the whole business with such high hopes. And when I started querying, I had an above average request rate, so that only accentuated it.
As time passed, however, and the rejection letters started to pile up, and the requested material started to come back with "good, but no thanks" letters, that hope started to waver. The day I made the decision to pull my novel out of the system, I felt pretty low. I couldn't even enjoy our family's weekly trip to Barnes and Noble. It hurt too much to see all those beautiful books--someone elses dream come true.
So, I sulked, and then I steeled myself. I told myself that I had been given a splash of ice cold reality in my face and that when I queried my next book, I would be much wiser, much more realistic. I had learned my lesson.
Well . . . maybe I haven't. I am nearing completion of my newest novel. As the time approaches to start querying it, I'm finding that good old feeling coming back to me. The other night we went to Barnes and Noble, and I was filled with a flutter of excitement, not to mention visions of my book nestled on those shelves.
Hope! It really does spring eternal. Now, granted, I have learned a lot from my first querying experience, and I really do think my expectations are more realistic. Realistic, but not without hope. And, I think that's okay.
I don't think we writers would make it very far without hope. Hope is what gives us the courage to send out those first letters, to those top New York agents. Hope is what drives us to push on when the rejection starts piling up. And Hope is why, when everything else has failed, we sit down to the computer and start writing a brand new book.
So, I'm glad that my hope has come surging back into my life. Even if it means wild dreams and possible visions of grandeur. Personally, I wouldn't have it any other way.