It’s been almost two weeks since I got a rejection letter from an agent. I take this two ways. First, I know that not getting a ‘no’ isn’t entirely like getting a ‘yes’, but avoiding a ‘no’ is better than getting one. (Whoever understands that crazy sentence gets to be mayor of Wackytown.)
But, on the other hand, I agree with Tom Petty as he sings, “Waiting is the hardest part.” I get to live the delusion that agents are out there, right now, mulling over my work with a serious eye. Oh, they want me, they want me bad… But, I digress.
There’s rejection, and then there’s neglect. Take the 54 people who looked at chapter one of Chenda and the Airship Brofman yesterday. I have to say that 52 of you didn’t leave a comment as instructed. Oh, yes, I looked at the stats every 5 minutes. Just because Cherri commented 17 times (pointing out various and sundry comma errors) it doesn’t let you off the hook. Props to Honnoria for the comment I kept.
Feed the hunger of the comment junkie, people! I’m not getting paid to write (yet) so for the love of all that’s holy – stroke my ego! … or at least say you were there, or leave a pebble on my headstone or something.