Ironic that yesterday was about putting yourself out there. Mmm, kismet.
I got home from work at about 3:30 in the morning last night to find an addressed envelope in my own hand writing sitting next to my husband. The name on it was my top choice agent. It contained my second rejection.
It was a form rejection of about two lines total. This agent has a “very full client list” and can only take on projects that are a “perfect fit.” Fair enough.
Something about being rejected by this particular agent feels somewhat liberating.
Yeah, yeah, you heard me right. I said liberating.
Am I rationalizing and trying to punt disappointment into the endzone like Ahmad Bradshaw‘s butt? Yes. But it’s also more or less true.
Finding an agent is like dating, and a good relationship with your agent is like a marriage.
I remember high school. After ping-ponging back and forth through different elementary schools, I landed in rural Montana. From sixth grade through the first half of my junior year, I went to school in a tiny town twenty miles south of Missoula. I had a couple fruitless crushes in those early years there, but when high school rolled around, I got my first major crush on a boy who, till that point, had contented himself with throwing snowballs at me and chewing on any object I left sitting within reach in our science class. I think I still have the plastic Winnie-the-Pooh toy with deformed ears.
(Thanks, doofus. <3)
I nursed this crush for over a year until I invited him to go to homecoming with me, and he said yes.
Except it was just platonic. The dance was all there was, and I still have our pictures somewhere. I ended up a wee bit heartbroken.
If you look in the dictionary under “late bloomer,” you’ll find my 2nd grade school picture, complete with missing front teeth and my chin pulled double in a maniacal grin. If I had it, I would share it with you for the lolz. I went through several years of rejection in dating — there were plenty before my homecoming date, and there were plenty after.
What I needed was the right fit. If I’d somehow married the first boy I had a crush on back in preschool, it most likely would have turned into a complete and utter disaster.
So while this agent was the first crush I had in the agent world, getting rejected by her allows me to explore options that might be better for me. Might make a better marriage.
And you never know what can happen from rejection, gentle viewers. That homecoming date went on to become the start of one of my longest friendships — he’s even one of the two people I went to high school with to have met my husband. He ended up taking me to prom senior year after I changed schools, and we’ve stayed in touch for over ten years.
Not that I’m going to be BFFs with this agent, but no bridges got set alight, so the future is full of possibility.
Time to get querying.
How have rejections spurred you onward? Have you ever desired something that turned out not to be your best option? Let’s paddle the rejection pool today!
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