I'm not big on rejection. Apparently, my extremely sheltered life led me to have an extremely not-thick skin. So you can understand why querying the story that holds most of my soul is so hard. Lots of rejections.
I told myself that I would try for a year and a half. I could quit on my birthday, and then no one could tell me I didn't try, right? Right.
My birthday is a month away. Only one more month of trying. And I'm scared that the month will be over and I'll have failed, but I'm also kinda relieved. Or at least, I was.
Cue conversation with my daughter on the way to school today:
She was telling me all the things she wanted to be when she grows up. And then she stops, mid-sentence: "Mom, what did you want to be when you were little?" "A writer." I smile. "Me too. I want to be a writer just like you when I grow up."
And then, "How do you get to be a writer?" I answer what every parent is supposed to answer when kids ask how to chase their dreams, "You can be anything you want to be. Just work hard and never give up."
So now I'm at an impasse. How on earth can I quit in a month and still tell my daughter to chase her dreams?