Rejection is simply a fact of a writer’s life.

It isn’t easy. It isn’t fun. In fact it’s rather like getting a tooth filled. You know it’s coming, but you really hope that somehow, someway you’ll squeak by and not have to get it. ??:

This week I received three more rejections to my every growing pile. (Honestly I think the suckers are in there breeding.) The folder has grown to nearly three inches thick (that’s a lot of one-page rejections), but I still keep sending things out.

Honestly, I’m not a masochist. I’m a writer. This is what we do and its just part of the business, kind of like how people who work retail are on their feet all day or mechanics get grease imbedded in their skin. But what’s different is that the person working retail doesn’t take their feet hurting as a personal attack, nor does the mechanic get sad, disgusted and angry about the grease.

Writers…well, we’re a different breed. We’d like to act like our books going out there are just a product and it’s nothing personal, but every rejection is personal. Hell, we even have levels of rejection among writers and congratulate each other when we get a good rejection!

I’ve gotten so many at this point that they no longer sting like they use to. You don’t pin your hopes on any one piece of paper because you know if something comes in the mail, it usually isn’t good news. Offers for books come via the phone.

But rejection is a numbers game. Every one gets me closer to an offer; every one means I’m still in their working for the chance to write books for a living.

So a toast to rejections: May my next be my last!

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