Preparing For...?

As I await word from publishers, I find myself vacillating between two impending outcomes. Contract offer or rejection. One of the two will happen; there's no such thing as a little bit published, right?

Getting an offer is the obvious preference. What if I don't, though?

I am pretty sure how I will feel about not getting a publishing contract, but the question is how should I feel?

As I've mentioned in previous posts, I have a 98-99% chance of being rejected. The odds are against me. I'm a realistic person and judging by past experiences, I've never been a first place kind of gal. Poetry contest--4th place. Spelling bee--2nd place. Various drawings/raffles--*nadda. The only time I've ever placed first was in a gift wrapping contest. I won a $10 Starbucks gift card.

Being good is not the same as being good enough.

There it is. The ugly truth.

In the meantime, I make a pretty good attempt at positive thinking, but I keep it real--there's a fine line between positive visualization and being delusional.

So if I don't achieve my goal, how dejected should I feel? Is the personal victory of having written, queried, and fought the good fight enough to satisfy? Should it fuel my determination and drive me to try harder?

I've never been one to beat a dead horse but let's face it, with odds like these I was kicking that horse corpse before I even sent my first query letter. So yeah, I'm mentally bracing myself for the worst possible--and highly probable--outcome, which is why I'm grateful to have an agent. If I didn't, my queries would look a little something like this:

Dear Editor,

I wrote a book that you will probably not appreciate; no one else seems to. I'm certain you'll reject it; everyone else has. But will you pretty please read it and send me negative comments that utterly conflict with what every other editor has said so I can continue to be confused as opposed to enlightened? I really have no interest in being published. I just like feeling like doggy doo doo every time I open my email.

Sincerely,
Me

*CORRECTION: When I wrote this blog I had not won a drawing or raffle. However, I have since--a book, of all things. Maybe that's a good sign...

UPDATED: As of November 9th, this post is n/a. *insert cheesy grin here*

Confidence Can Be Dangerous

Confidence can be a dangerous thing, especially when you're a writer. As many books as I have read and enjoyed, there are that many more that I have started and never finished because they were that bad. Each time this happens I think, if this person can get published so can I!

Dangerous, indeed.

You see, the publishing industry reminds me of that money pie politicians often evoke. The theory goes something like this:

There is a pie. The pie represents all the money. There are only eight slices available. Seven of the slices are eaten (spent) by hungry rich people. That leaves just one slice of the pie (wealth) available for the remaining 98%. Since one slice is not enough to feed everyone, some of that 98% simply do without--not because they aren't deserving of a bite, there just isn't enough to go around.

I'm not an economy expert, so I don't know if this is truly how the economy works, but this is how publishing works. Seven slices of the publishing pie goes to celebrity writers, best sellers, household names, and already established authors. The remaining slice is all that's available for the rest of the newbies or relatively unknowns. Due to the lack of pie, pubs are that much more selective when deciding who gets a piece and who doesn't. Not unlike the money pie theory, there will be those who get a share even though they don't deserve it, which sucks for those who do.

I remind myself of this often. Earning something or deserving something does not automatically entitle me to anything. There are no guarantees. I know that when/if I am offered a contract, luck will have as much to do with it as my skill, hard work, and determination did. So while I am confident in my abilities, that confidence cannot overshadow realism, because nothing will end a writing career faster than frustration or bitterness.