I put that quote on the letterboard that sits in our kitchen for My Girl, who was dealing with a

12-year-old heartbreak. When I saw it, I thought immediately of My Girl and how it could help

her muster up the courage to talk to the people she fears will reject her.

It’s wasn’t until I was painstakingly putting letter after letter on the felt board (which, btw, my

family gives me no appreciation for) did I realize how applicable it was to me and my attempts

at publication.

Sending a manuscript to publishers is a fresh new hell, especially for those who suffer from low

confidence and/or crippling imposter syndrome (enter me as Exhibit A). This torture of my

already-fragile self-esteem was a bit of a shock to me. I blame my creative writing professors. In

all my classes during undergrad, which I took ALL the creative writing ones, never was it

mentioned the fortitude of spirit that would be needed to be a writer.

Even on my best days, when I’m offering up something innocuous to the world, I don’t handle

rejection well. Imagine, then, the heartbreak I endure every time a publisher said my

manuscript was not for them.

I made the mistake once of asking my agent for an update on our progress. I think I said

something breezy like, ‘We haven’t heard back from any publishers yet. Any thoughts on that?’

He, then immediately, forwarded eight emails from publishers/editors turning down my

manuscript.

Eight.

All within ten minutes.

I learned my lesson. Don’t ask questions to which I don’t want to know the answer.

That night, as I was watering down my glass of pinot noir with salty tears, my husband said the

lines of an eternal optimist, as he perused my crushing rejections as if they were the Sunday

comics:

“Look at this one!” He sounded excited. Maybe there was a small ounce of praise in one of

those nos. “You’ve been turned down by Random House!”

I think a bit of weeping snot mingled in my wine. The funny thing was – he said it with genuine

excitement. Maybe even pride? He explained when I stopped sobbing enough to listen to some

reason: how many people have even gotten their words in front of Random House? He was

truly excited for me. Sure, they said no, but they read it. Random House read what I wrote.

I still haven’t joined him on that plane of excitement when it comes to rejections. I still lack a lot

of confidence when I let people read my work, but maybe I should take my own advice: Not

everyone will like what I wrote, and I will be fine even if they don’t.

Though I’d still like to be the writer accepted