I’ll admit it… I’ve been in kind of a whiny mood the past couple of weeks.
My first erotic romance story was accepted for publication almost 6 years ago. (January 2009). And my first YA novel, under my other pen name, was accepted in the fall of the same year. Since then, I’ve had… well, a lot of things published. And very few rejections.
In November, I got rejections on two romance projects. And that’s hitting me harder than I thought it would.
Getting rejections is part of the business of being a writer, and I know this. I don’t take rejections personally, any more than I take negative reviews personally. It’s about the book, not *me*.
But because these were only my seventh and eighth rejections since I started writing for publication, and because depression is a dick and the people in my past who told me negative things about myself apparently still live in my brain, I’m struggling to reach the point of “This isn’t something to dwell on, I can get past it, and I can try other publishers.” Both rejections were from publishers I’m not currently working with, that I was really hoping to get into, and one of the two had rejected one of my other books three years ago.
I know I’m good enough. I know that there’s definitely room for improvement in my writing, but I also know that my writing is good and that I’m capable of learning new things and making those improvements.
It’s just a matter of letting this mood pass so I can get back to work and try again.