This post was written early yesterday afternoon.  I didn’t post it yesterday as when I returned home I had yet another rejection waiting for me which has since changed my thinking slightly.  I shall explain everything in my next post.

It gives me great pleasure to announce that I am now officially a literary failure.  This morning I received my first rejection on the grounds that my material wasn’t suitable for the agency in question.

Since I first submitted my manuscript I have been filled with apprehension regarding how exactly I would feel upon receiving my first rejection.  Honestly its a peculiar mixture.  On one hand I appreciate the fact that someone somewhere read my submission despite the fact they clearly didn’t like it.  The other part of me is disappointed and being somewhat of a drama queen by telling me that I am wasting my time and that I should try my hand at something achievable like alcoholism.

The fact is that it is at least forcing me to contemplate my next step.  Right now I don’t know whether to push on with my original plan, rewrite or burn my manuscript and resolve myself to join the faceless brigade of those who are merely waiting to die.  At least in the short-term my commitment to NaNoWriMo means that my hands are tied until the end of the month.

A man’s true character can be recognised when you observe him in the face of rejection, when no hope of salvation or redemption is in plain sight.  Those who flee we deem cowards, those who remain steadfast in their convictions, we brand crazy.  I suspect I am a little of both.