Some of you know that I lost my beloved literary agent in September 2013.
No, she didn’t die. She left the business, though it felt like a death to me.
For months, I cried and ate Oreos. The tears helped. The cookies just gave me a sugar hangover and didn’t change reality. For the full story of my writing woes over the years, read Who the hell are you?
I fell into a deep, purple Funk, but forced myself to start querying agents again.
The process sucks as much as it did for my first novel (and second, and third…). The agent I adored represented my fourth novel.
To date, my rejection total for book #4 is: