A few weeks ago I sold a story (cue confetti cannon). When they get back to me, I’ll let you know when and where it’s appearing.
Here’s the thing though. I’ve had a lot of practice at rejection, from the hard “NOPE” bounce to the “Oh, maybe, maybe, it’s so close, we really like it, but y’know, actually, no” to the “Really? You sent us something? We can’t seem to find it. Send it again. Of course we’re going to secretly close down the whole operation and move to Ecuador right after you do though. Okay?” Rejection, I am used to it.
Not so much acceptance. I get them, occasionally, thank goodness. But they are rare enough that when I get them I tend to freeze, unsure of what to do. Generally, my first reaction is to summon my inner Admiral Ackbar. Then, after I’ve stopped muttering “It’s a trap,” I’m generally okay for awhile. Happy, even. That never lasts though.
Pretty soon I’m back on the Submission Grinder or Duotrope, tracking wait times, wondering what story is going to be shot down next. Obsessing, all the while, over the fact that I haven’t gotten an agent yet. Or a book deal. Or a movie deal. Or a theme park. This kind or neuroticism has its uses, when it gets me to write more. Generally though, it’s a pain in the ass. I sold a story! I should be happy. And I am! But that was a couple of weeks ago, and what about this week? What about next?
Damn it, where’s my theme park?