On January 4th, I told you I’d done something I hadn’t done in 12 years. Submit to an agent. Today I had a first. A rejection from an agent.
I didn’t submit to her with a sense of euphoria. I’m not upset, depressed or feeling worthless. No bubble was burst. But since receiving the “I didn’t love it” reject, I’m pondering the ever frustrating question:
Now what?
I could query another agent, but what if the manuscript really isn’t all that lovable? I certainly don’t want to burn bridges with anyone I might want to rep me in the future.
I could pay hundreds of dollars to a freelance editor to help me whip it into shape. But that’s a risky step. All that money for one editor’s opinion?
Then there’s the option that has crossed my mind a gazillion times. Design some cool covers, hire a copyeditor and throw it all up on Amazon. That would be the easy route. And I could man the helm – a major perk for a control freak like me. But then again, I’m no more a Joe Konrath or Amanda Hocking than I am a Stephen King or Janet Evanovich. To be successful on Kindle, you have to be consistent, a quick writer, and offer 2 or more books a year. Quick and consistent, I'm not.
And then there’s the practical choice. Put it in a drawer and go to the next project. Distance has always been my friend. But that drawer is already overstuffed.
So help me out here, guys. What would you do?
