I have a confession. I hate writing. I really do. It’s difficult, it is time consuming, and I spend most of the day convinced that I’m horrible at it, so why bother in the first place? There are very few redeeming aspects about it. I write because…well, I’m not sure why. I just know I get a story in my head, and it won’t leave me alone until I get it out.
But as much as I dislike the writing process, the process that comes after the book is done is even worse. I am now shopping for an agent/publisher.
Agents and publishers are very nice people. I have nothing against them, at all. But the fact of the matter is that a major portion of their job is to reject people. They have to tell them that they are not interested in representing/publishing their particular story. I know this in my head, but it doesn’t make the process any easier.
For those of you who have never had the lovely opportunity to send off a book to a publisher/agent, let me try to paint you a picture of how it feels.
Imagine you’ve just had a baby. You have carried this baby for 9 months in your womb. The process of carrying and delivering this baby was incredibly difficult. But when you hold the baby for the first time, and you see how beautiful she is, you know it’s all been worth it. The pain, the suffering, the tears, the worry…all worth it.
The nurse comes in, and you hold the baby up so that she can take a good look at her. The morning light shines on your baby, and she coos for the nurse. What a precious baby! What a precious moment!
The nurse glances over and says, “Wow, that is one ugly offspring you’ve got there.”
Yeah, that is exactly how it feels. Right in the gut. Kapow!
