I submitted a manuscript for the first time in almost two years last week.
It doesn’t get any easier.
I wrote the query letter and searched for agents, preferably ones that didn’t require a synopsis. After preparing the email, my hand hovered over the send button. I couldn’t click it.
My husband wondered what I was doing. I explained. He was probably impressed that I wasn’t surfing Pinterest. He told me to hit send.
You would think after having nine manuscripts accepted, sending out number ten would not induce stomach churning. Terrified thoughts flew through my head. “What if it isn’t ready?” “You know it’s not. There’s a hundred things you could improve.” “What if they hate it?” “What if they think it’s dumb?” And even more terrifying, “What if they want to see more?” “What if they can sell it?” “What if they can sell it, but they want me to change the main character into a shape-shifter?”
Thankfully(?), the rejection came quickly and impersonally.