Letting Go

My little sister emailed me the other day pointing out that I hadn't blogged since 1 September. Which is true yes, but since you my darling can ask me anything that you want, any time that you want, I'm really not sure why you would read this unless you're just checking to make sure that I'm not telling stories about you (and I promised I wouldn't after a certain bridesmaid's dress incident!)

When I started this blog it was to chronicle the wannabe-writer journey. Which I very much still am. But honestly? There's only so many times that I can write about the submission/rejection cycle!

And the truth is I'm kind of stuck at the moment. I've had my manuscript out on submission to an editor now for almost a year (it will be next month). And during that time I've plugged away rewriting it just in case she happens to like it enough to want to see the whole thing.

And she's not just any editor. She's one (of two) of my dream editors. She's funny and real and no holds barred and witty and acquires great books. And the truth is that I don't think my writing is good enough for her (yet) but I'm really hoping that one day, with something else, it might be.

I fear that she has actually rejected me months ago but her gracious let down has gotten lost in a virtual black hole somewhere. But at the same time I had been warned that she takes a long time to get back to people, so part of me also wanders if maybe this is pretty standard for her and my thinking long meant six months was being a tad optimistic.

I should be working on something new to submit. Because when she either rejects me, or I get up enough courage to contact her and find out that she already has and it never reached me, that's a year gone with nothing new to submit. Because the truth is that she's it for this story, if she doesn't like it, well it's already been rejected by every other agent I want to query, and I can't see any other publisher being a good match for it.

But it's like I just can't let this baby go until this final nail is officially in its coffin.

Which makes me wonder if I'm even meant to be a writer at all. Surely a real writer would have so many great and new ideas zipping around their brains but they couldn't help but have started something new by now, rather than refusing to stop doing CPR on something that is obvious to everyone else isn't going to make it.

The even more ridiculous thing is that the story that I should be working on I already know is good, it's finaled in pretty much every writing contest I've entered it in and have earned some rave reviews. Even I, usually my own worst critic, know it has something special about it when I read the opening chapters.

So why can't I just let the first one go?