Sad Tidings From The Dream Editor
There it was. The manuscript I'd sent to the dream editor. Sitting in my post office box. Battered and bruised, even. It had apparently had a rough trip back from NY, because it was filthy, torn and had been enroute for over a week. She didn't tell me my writing sucked or anything. Her letter was very kind. (As I'd expect from what I've read about her.) But she did tell me a troubling thing: they already bought a book very similar to mine. A psychologist working with vampires. That means someone wrote a book in the general vicinity of mine and sold it. Before me. And there I was, all puffed up thinking I'd written something original and fresh. That I'd be SURE to sell this unusual idea. Well, the rejection and information about the other book really took the wind out of my sails for a while. I'm struggling with gathering up enough motivation to write something else, but I'm not there yet. I guess I can say for sure that just because my first three chapters seemed to do well in contests, apparently the rest of my book doesn't cause agents/editors to pound down my door. I don't think I suck as a writer (even though I said that to my crit group), but I don't think I fit. I think that's what's on my cosmic t-shirt: I don't fit.