Why do we let rejections bother us?

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That’s the question of the day for me. I am a writer. Part of that process is rejection. Duh. I know that. But each one I get makes me think I’m a hack. Why is that? The funny thing is, I know I’m competent and capable. But send me a rejection and I think I’m horrid and worthless.  I’ve sold numerous short stories and two novels and just started a quest for an agent about a month ago. I got two agent rejections yesterday.  And on Monday, I got two short story rejections.  It was like a quadruple whammy.

And no, I wasn’t arrogant enough to think that the first agent I queried would fall in love with me but I did at least think I’d get a request for more pages. One of the agents said my writing was very strong but she wasn’t captivated by the first 5 pages, which was all she had.  The other one blew me off completely. Short, terse, nothing.

So, determined not to give up, I sent out two more agent letters and I sent the short stories out again. This morning I woke up to a contract in my email for one of the short stories- It was accepted by a children’s magazine (for ages 14 and up).  So, what a difference 14 hours makes.   I went from Gloomy Gus who thinks she can’t write to Delighted Debbie, the master story teller!  Until the next rejection, that is.

What a crazy industry this is. And me, too. Crazy, that is. 

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