I am not a new year resolution person. Resolutions are for the unresolute, and the new year is just arbitrary numbers we assign to mark rotations of the planet and our revolutions around a fiery ticking bomb of a gas bomb. So this may seem like a declaration of a resolution, it’s not. It’s just how the timing of certain events unfolded, more circumstance than anything.
First, I had a full request hanging out there for an almost interminable six months for my novel, Artemas James and the Phantom Funeral Coach. Saturday, while sitting on my couch with my person, I checked my email on my phone. My heart skipped a beat when I saw an email from the literary agent who had that manuscript. I sat looking at it, knowing that the hope I held was hanging in the balance. I felt I knew what it held as an answer, but I couldn’t be sure. I took a deep breath and took my medicine. It was a rejection. This one hurt.
I took a little time to allow myself to process the message. I got good critical feedback. And instead of the initial deflation, I feel more motivated than ever to make this thing called writing to happen. It’s going to happen. I’m not going to let it be anything else. I reopened Artemas and began to tighten up the story. And, sorry agents, but if you want MG, you will be getting a query from me.
Also, not to take for granted a wave of inspiration to succeed, I submitted a short story to a contest. The Writing Digest Short Short Story contest. The Good news is that I will know how they liked my story by February 28. No waiting half a year, just about 50 days instead.