I touched on this briefly last post. It’s not that I get my feelings hurt when I receive a reject on my labor of love (my novel).
It’s this: I want something so bad and I hold so many expectations and hopes that when I do get rejected, it’s not personal or a reflection of me. It doesn’t hurt my ego or anything. It’s a deflation of my dreams and expectations and the knowledge that there is still plenty of work to do. It also is a lesson in patience (not my strong point by any means). I have to wait longer to see my book in print, to see my dreams materialize, to hold my work in my hands and watch others enjoy what I’ve created.
I want it now is what it comes down to and a rejection signals, “Nope, not now but later.”
I know that my novel is good. I know in my heart it is God’s work and it is meant to be shared to help others cope in this world. I know that. It’s just frustrating when I can’t seem to get that across to others.
No one said this was easy or life was easy. What fun would that be?
I pray I get an agent soon. I pray I get a publisher soon. I pray my husband gets a job soon. I pray we move to where I want to live and not to some hole-in-the-earth place where a job happens to be. I pray my kids get accepted to schools where I can feel comfortable sending them to, where I won’t have to homeschool them the rest of their lives, where they can have friends and the whole school experience. I pray these burdens on my heart are lifted.
I miss my old town. I miss my old church. I miss my friends. My kids miss their friends. Hell, I even miss my old house.
Do the trials of life ever end?