Dear M,
Today I received one more rejection letter. That ends the life of that manuscript, I do not have any more pending-queries-awaiting-response and there are no more publishers left for me to to query. I have no idea what I should do with that MS. If there is nothing more to be done, then let it go, I guess. Maybe its time will come, later. I hate to think it is dead. I love it so much. I still believe there is something in it, a spark, a flame. Something.
There are too many publishers these days, but that is not always a good thing. You have no idea which ones are genuine, and which are fake. Which ones would be able to really help you, and which ones are working for their own benefit. Perhaps it is unfair to think so, these publishers are new and need as much support as new writers do, but these days it is tough to trust anyone. Which isn't what I wanted to talk about.
I return to yesterday's topic - why is writing important? In the light of this new rejection, I am revisiting my take. Saying that my writing should make a difference to someone and that it should live for decades after I am gone sound pretty noble, no doubt, but is that really all? The more I think of it, the more I am convinced that that is not all. I want to write so as to prove something - to myself and to a few others. I have a few failures under my belt - incidents that shook the foundations of my self-confidence. These happened a few years ago and I rebounded as much as I can, but the feeling that perhaps I am not even average at what I do keeps constantly nagging me. If I have to get rid of it, I need to make my mark - on the one thing that matters to me now. I cannot afford to fail. It's that bad. It's that simple.
And with each rejection, this belief, this strength, this semblance of confidence drains a wee bit. So many editors cannot be mistaken, can they? And if I am going to fail in this one too, there is no alley left for me to turn to.
They say you should never give up. They say many writers have faced the same fate. They say everyone gets a break, if they persist in their efforts. But if there no longer seems a purpose to fighting, then what do you do? It doesn't make my struggle and pain any lesser to know that other authors have endured the same.
You do realise how desperate I am, don't you? I need to write because I need to prove that I don't have to give up. As long as my optimism and my energy prevail, I will be out here. And when they run out? I have absolutely no idea.
Love.
Today I received one more rejection letter. That ends the life of that manuscript, I do not have any more pending-queries-awaiting-response and there are no more publishers left for me to to query. I have no idea what I should do with that MS. If there is nothing more to be done, then let it go, I guess. Maybe its time will come, later. I hate to think it is dead. I love it so much. I still believe there is something in it, a spark, a flame. Something.
There are too many publishers these days, but that is not always a good thing. You have no idea which ones are genuine, and which are fake. Which ones would be able to really help you, and which ones are working for their own benefit. Perhaps it is unfair to think so, these publishers are new and need as much support as new writers do, but these days it is tough to trust anyone. Which isn't what I wanted to talk about.
I return to yesterday's topic - why is writing important? In the light of this new rejection, I am revisiting my take. Saying that my writing should make a difference to someone and that it should live for decades after I am gone sound pretty noble, no doubt, but is that really all? The more I think of it, the more I am convinced that that is not all. I want to write so as to prove something - to myself and to a few others. I have a few failures under my belt - incidents that shook the foundations of my self-confidence. These happened a few years ago and I rebounded as much as I can, but the feeling that perhaps I am not even average at what I do keeps constantly nagging me. If I have to get rid of it, I need to make my mark - on the one thing that matters to me now. I cannot afford to fail. It's that bad. It's that simple.
And with each rejection, this belief, this strength, this semblance of confidence drains a wee bit. So many editors cannot be mistaken, can they? And if I am going to fail in this one too, there is no alley left for me to turn to.
They say you should never give up. They say many writers have faced the same fate. They say everyone gets a break, if they persist in their efforts. But if there no longer seems a purpose to fighting, then what do you do? It doesn't make my struggle and pain any lesser to know that other authors have endured the same.
You do realise how desperate I am, don't you? I need to write because I need to prove that I don't have to give up. As long as my optimism and my energy prevail, I will be out here. And when they run out? I have absolutely no idea.
Love.
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