I’ve been on a bit of a high since making my first professional sale in May and seeing my short story published in August. Recently, I’ve begin to experience the letdown that comes with a return to regularly scheduled programming. I’m talking about rejections. Quite a lot of them, actually.
A writer I much admire talks about the point in an author’s career where the mindset flips from praying for a sale to expecting a sale. And after that first sale, I thought I understood what he meant. But one sale does not a career make. I’m writing and submitting more than I ever have, but with my one sale as the sole exception, the results remain the same.
Today I received a very polite refusal from a neo-pro writers group I hoped to join. My writing is not yet at the level of the other members of the group, as indicated by my single publication. I personally know several of the writers in this group, and had considered myself to be a peer, but was forced to accept the fact that they all have several professional sales while I do not. Bummer.
This morning, when I sat down to work on the edits of my latest WIP, my eyes were drawn to the note I posted (four years ago) to the frame of my computer monitor, so I would never forget it:
THE WRITING SPEAKS FOR ITSELF
Like it or not, that phrase is the truth a writer lives by. I still haven’t figured out how to make my writing speak consistently, but I’m working on it.