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Fear, panic, terror… Run! (I’m terrified to make a decision)

June 11, 2013

I said this summer would be different. This will be the summer that I lock myself away, edit SIATSIA and finish Bloodflowers. It would be the summer that I learn the ins and outs of my ginormous and intimidatingly amazing digital piano. It would be the summer that I… That I… Publish. Or try to go for it, anyway.

I found a lovely little YA GLBT press, and I think I should go for it. But I’ve never put so much on the line before. It’s my soul. Even admitting that here is painful. I am not a risk taker. The only risks I take are onein where I don’t really care how things go. If I send a query letter off to this publishing house, I am opening myself up for the biggest rejection of my life: someone telling me I’m just no good, that my characters are unlovable and unmoving. After so many years, it would be like I’ve let them down, like being kicked in the teeth.

A. is in the midst of great publishing success, but she’s also had days where she receives multiple rejections in a single day. She has a much thicker skin than I do, though. The last time I faced rejection of anything even close to this magnitude, I was left shattered for weeks, and even 10 years later, I retain some of my bitterness (I was raised Roman Catholic; we know an awful lot about guilt and grudges).

I know I ought to have a Little-Engine-That-Could mentality here, but I just don’t operate that way. Instead, I have these butterflies that are more like a swarm of giant moths beating out a horrible message in Morse Code in my stomach: You. Must. Do. This. You. Will. Fail. You. Must. Try. This. You. Will. Lose. everything. Keep. The. Faith. Twig.

Shit. I’m going to lean on A. For moral support and go reread SIATSIA with the most critical eye I have ever done. Tomorrow I will start my query letter.

I’m a do this.


From → rants

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