Whining and Complaining

Wait, what?!? Why are you still reading? Well, don't say I didn't warn you.
It was right there in the title.
Quick, turn back!
Shut down this screen.

Phew.

NOW.

I. WANT. MY.  FUCKING. BOOK. PUBLISHED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :(

There. I feel slightly better.

Okay, lie. No, I don't. Not yet. Not really.

I mean, come on!? First The Jetty and now Swim Back to Me?

Both good enough to get me agented by major New York literary agencies, but neither good enough to sell?!?

Come on! >:(

Okay, okay. I am trying for acceptance, but I just can't get myself to believe it and let go of that last glimmer of hope.

And let me tell you just how cruel that last glimmer can be.

For days, I've doing that damned email and caller ID checking thing that I hate so much...

But, it seems I'm going to have to find my way toward that acceptance eventually. Or, rather, sooner than later.

Because, for all the great editorial feedback Swim Back to Me has gotten from at least five major houses ("I'm half way through and couldn't put it down, is the ms still available?" from one... "my assistant and I both loved it... found the characters believeable, found ourselves wanting to know what happened, blah, blah, blah" from another) they all seem to have followed with "buts..." 

BIG. FAT. BUTS!

In an email yesterday, I told my agent to go ahead and just send the close out notice.

In an email today, she tells me,"deep breath." But what does she know of the thousands of hours and emotional energy I have put into that manuscript? Okay, well, seriously, she sort of knows. I think she's as surprised as I am that it hasn't sold. I know she believes in it and me. And, certainly, she's put her time in it too. Pushing me on revisions, rereading after each version, lunching with editors to assess their initial interest (this isn't as fun as it sounds), preparing the cover sheets and packages for submission. Follow up phone calls...

Still, I'm pissed. And, more than that, heartbroken. I'm trying to just suck it up and move on, but apparently, I'm not as good as sucking it up once again as I should be. I may need to whine and complain some more first.

Are you STILL reading? Well thanks, then. And, please, you can kick my ass, but no platitudes.  I fucking hate platitudes.

Hey, don't say I didn't warn you.