And another one has died.

So five minutes ago, I received my final rejection on Darkshifters.

101 queries, 23 partials, 9 fulls...and, in the end, 101 rejections. So many of the rejections were personalized, so many of them were 'we want to see more of your work' so many of them liked every single thing but one.

And every single one of them passed.

Even I find it hard to be optimistic at the moment. My tough skin feels a little shredded. Why shouldn't it? My baby--and the dreams I had for it--are dead. I'm not used to self-doubt.

I don't like it.

Rationally, I know I'm still learning my craft and also that I'm luckier than most--I have a relationship with a small press. Darkshifters will probably see the light of day as the result of one email and the absolute trust of my EIC. But with every rejection on those manuscript requests there was always a teensy ray of light and I knew--just felt--that someone would pick it up before I reached the end of my very long query list. I wanted the big time, damnit!

I missed.

So I'll add another little tombstone to my graveyard of SFF stories and wade into the backed up drafts on my hard drive to drag out another book. I'll torture it and myself for several months, agonizing over every little aspect, and start all over again. And maybe, just maybe--this time I'll light upon that magic next time and make the connection that just barely slipped through my fingers this one.

The funeral's tomorrow--a private affair with vodka and Red Bull and perhaps just a little bit of angst-flavored beer. I'll give myself a few days to grieve and then I'll start compiling a new query list for the next victim in line.

And life goes on. The moral of this story is, I hope--always have a plan B.

And C.

And D.

And vodka.

Man this hurts. The Doom Bunny is dead.

If I shook my bootay, West Virginia would probably go with it.

Yeah, I've thought about the slush piles...and cringed. Literally. Right off the couch. I might give it a go with some indie presses once I scrape my ego from the bottom of my shoe and start thinking practically. I think I'll wallow for a couple of days first.

Well...and drink.

Good Lord--you're depressingly optimistic. FWIW, the book was beta-ed and beta-ed again. The fangsters suffered through numerous incarnations--they learned to run when I started a post with "Oh, by the way..." It's just not--

*shrug*

--good enough. But that's okay. I'll bat some ideas around over the weekend (in between football games, of course) and decide where to go next. (I'm tempted to send it to Mundania, to be quite honest) And, as I said, I have numerous novels past first draft status. I'll torture one of them for a while. I have a feeling that, at least with the 'we want to see more of your work' agents, it might be a good idea to get another sub to them before too much longer.

As long as the next one is perfect, of course. I mean, I only worked on Darkshifters for five years...

*sniff*

More vodka. That's the ticket.

Thanks, guys.

I'm well-versed in research by this point, I think. (God, I hope so! It would be hysterical if I messed up on that now. It would be like Dear Abby not knowing how to handle a cheating spouse...) POD publishing is not a route that I personally would explore at this time--but that's just me. So now I'm researching non-POD small presses. I was happy with the response rate. I guess that's why I got sucked into optimism this time, which is usually a state I avoid out of sheer self-preservation. It does make me think I'm on the right track at least...maybe...perhaps...

As far as small press goes, I'll take a couple of days and make up a short list and see where that takes me.

And my next book will be better. Its file is already open and glaring at me, daring me to read it as an editor and not a writer. I'll do my darnedest to avoid the temptation tonight, though. One more shot of vodka and I'll barely be able to type.

Thanks again, everyone, for all the consolation. And I promise, after all my preaching about staying on the horse and not falling into the mired traps of bitterness, I'll keep my perspective and jump right back into work.

Hell. Maybe I'll even stay out of my email account for a week or so in celebration.