This is a four-minute post. Today was a brutal slog through nine hours of meetings, followed by a drive home, where I worked for another three hours. The good news is that I feel much more caught up than I did over the past few days, so I may actually be able to get to the weekend with a clear conscience and a happy heart.
It says a lot about how bad yesterday was that today seemed like a cakewalk by comparison. And it was a cakewalk even though I received Rejection #2. I'm not precisely worried -- many authors go through thirty or forty rejections, or write several books, before they are ever picked up by an agent, and I shall persevere.
However, I am beginning to wonder if I should go back to my original belief that submitting in December is a bad idea. I submitted because I'm eager, impatient, excited, etc. -- but every publishing blog I read is talking about the disastrous publishing forecasts, how major houses are laying off staff, halting acquisitions, and divesting or merging product lines. Even if this wasn't going on, I would think that agents would be somewhat less likely to accept new clients in December because they're focused on end-of-year housekeeping with their existing clients -- but the knowledge that the publishing trade seems to be falling down around their ears has to be making them more cautious.
So, hiatus on submissions to agents until January. Then I'll hope that they all made a new year's resolution to acquire a client with a penchant for witty, character-driven Regency romances. And I'll start writing the next one so that, in case my beloved Malcolm and Amelia are destined for the box of forgotten manuscripts under my desk that every author supposedly has, I'll be ready to sell something else. Sounds dreary, but it's the best I've got.
Four minutes are up, goodnight!
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