As of today I have 12,0000 words left of my current rewrite. It is at once hugely elating and absolutely terrifying. It’s taken five months to do, I’ve experienced more frustration, joy and satisfaction then I could have ever imagined and I am very proud of both the novel and myself.
But I am still (sorry mum) f*****g terrified, because, with the end in sight, the submission process will begin again. And I hate, repeat HATE, the submission process. For someone who spent seven years in sales I am God awful at selling myself. Even with a jazzy, Winchester approved covering letter, a revamped synopsis and a pretty kick ass submission I am still terrified. But why?
Let’s face it; this is not my first time. At the start of the year I went through the whole thing and got rejected twelve times. Yes, I cried after every single one of them and yes, my husband did have to go on many a chocolate run to cheer me up but hey, I survived and it didn’t put me off. So why am I so terrified now?
There seems to be no point to this blog other than to tell you how scared I am. But that is the point in itself, I think. I am scared, but my fear has no point. It has no meaning. More importantly, it has no power.
I will carry on. I will finish rewriting these final words and I will submit my novel. And I will still probably cry at every single rejection but hey, it only takes one person to say yes. And then I will be crying for a whole other reason; those happy, I CAN’T BELIEVE I’VE DONE IT BUT I’VE DONE IT, hooray for me tears.
BRING. IT. ON.