Notice how nothing is definite. I guess that's why I struggle with editing so much. How do you really know if all that work helped? I've done a lot of editing that's essentially gone down the tube. I'm not complaining—it's just the truth. Yeah, yeah, I learned stuff and grew as a writer so it's not technically wasted. But it sure doesn't feel like that when you have a failed submission under your belt, and here you are with a new manuscript to send into that party.
It's still freaking scary. Maybe more, because you know so very well what could happen.
I wish I could tell every new writer out there that once you get an agent, once you get a book deal, once you hit the Bestseller list, that it all magically gets easy and every single one of your subsequent books will sell and succeed. But that would be dishonest. Your agent or editor can say no to that next book. It happens often.
I'm not sure I can explain how scary it is to send this manuscript to my agent. Yes, she's my agent! She likes me! I like her! But...she could still not like the book. I've learned that the hard way. Man, it sucks that your agent can still reject you, basically. Well, reject the book. We are not our books, right? Kind of?
It was just so much work. I can't describe how emotionally and mentally draining this process was. I want so badly for this experience—this book—to be validated, not just by me but by some editor out there. Yes, I said it. I want this damn book to sell. And it might not. And all that work I did, once again, could end up as just another "learning experience." I wonder how many learning experiences it'll take to get to the next level.
Sigh. Some things never change, do they?
I still want this. I still can't control when or if it will happen. That's still frustrating as hell. And, yes, there's still only one thing I can do:
Work on the next book.
Ah, the writer's life.