A year and a half later, I opened my 40th rejection: “There is no market for this kind of tiring writing.” That one finally made me cry.
After rejection number 40, I started lying to my friends about what I did on the weekends.
The point is, I can’t tell you how to succeed. But I can tell you how not to: Give in to the shame of being rejected and put your manuscript—or painting, song, voice, dance moves, [insert passion here]—in the coffin that is your bedside drawer and close it for good. I guarantee you that it won’t take you anywhere.
Sound advice for W r i t e r s L i k e M e (uttered through bullhorn in hurricane)
I wonder if that’s a Pottery Barn rug…