Ok, so “The Call” didn’t end up being all that exciting after all. Basically, the editors said they loved the main character, that I “nailed” the voice, and that if I tweaked this and that and maybe re-envisioned the background part and maybe oh, thought about another angle to take the whole thing in, they would be happy.

Um.

Right.

Basically, it was a really nice, padded NO.

I can definitely say that as the years have gone by, I’ve gotten better at hearing rejections. This means that I no longer take to bed for 2-3 days, crying like I’ve just lost a parent, and consuming vast quantities of Ben Jerry’s Chunky Monkey ice cream. I’m not that kind of person at all anymore.

Now, I sort of just stagger around the house, blindly picking up the thousand or so unmatched socks that seem to litter every available inch of every room, and try to convince myself that although I am the author of six books, not everything I write is going to be touched with the golden publishing wand. I will open the pantry door and take out the earless, tail-less six pound chocolate bunny left over from Easter and bite off one of its paws. Maybe a little angrily. And I will tell myself, as I am rewrapping the bunny in foil that I’m not a loser. And that eventually, I will write something else that will be deemed worthy enough to be put in print. Someday.

It’s funny how this rejection thing still stings. How, despite my modest modicum of success, hearing the word no can still put me back all the way at Square One again. The rational part of me (otherwise known as my husband) says, “But this is the business you got into! This is the way it works!” To which the irrational part of me (otherwise known as the perpetually six-year old side of me) juts out her bottom lip and says: “But I don’t care! It sucks!”

It does suck. Not having all your work embraced and loved as you do is never fun. But I told a friend of mine (during one of my more rational moments) that I had a feeling that this rejection was going to lead to something better. Which all rejections do, eventually. I just have to remember to be patient in the meantime. Have faith. Keep working.

And maybe hide that chocolate bunny a little better next time.

Onward, always!

CG

So I’ve been deeply immersed in rewriting the new book, coming up every so often for air, the occasional pretzel and peanut butter sandwich, and to spend time with my children. Then this morning, out of the blue, my agent calls.

“The editor at Random House wants to have a three way tele-conference with you tomorrow. Are you free?”

Huh? Wuzzat? 

“For your series proposal,” she says patiently. “The one we submitted a few months ago? For little kids?”

I get up from my desk. Walk downstairs. Step over the cat, and then turn around and walk back up. Sit down in my chair. Months ago? That is agent/editor/literary speak for half a year ago. Try November. Or December even, when we got a few disinterested passes. It’s been so long, I’d forgotten it was even out there. I forgot I even wrote the damn thing!  And now the editor at Random House wants to talk to me about writing a series for them? For real?

“Cecilia?” I hear my name on the other end of the line. “Are you free tomorrow? Can I set something up?”

“Yes!”  I get up again, start pacing. “What do they want to talk about? Is it good? Do they think it’s good? Do you think they want it? Do you think they’ll make an offer?”

(I always picture my agent at this part of our discussions quietly placing her own phone down while I go on one of these rants and making herself something to eat. It’s like someone has pulled a plug inside my head, turned a light on; I go from speechless to yammering in two seconds flat.)

 After a minute (or two) I settle back down, take a breath. And then she says: “I honestly don’t know yet. We’ll have to wait and see.”

I open and close my mouth with a fish. Little whimpering sounds drift out and then fade like bubbles in front of me. I have to wait? A whole day? Just to find out if they even want it?

“Yes,” my agent says. “And you’ll be fine.” (She says this a lot to me, too.)

So that’s where I am tonight. Sitting on the edge of my chair, trying to work on Chapter 23 of the new book, while half of my brain is out there, wandering around in Random House Land. I don’t have any choice but to sit back, do the work, and wait. Tomorrow at one o’clock, I’ll know more. And when I do, so will you.

In the meantime, onward! Always!

CG 

“We are made to persist. That’s how we find out who we are.”  - Tobias Wolff