Getting My Toes Wet

"In order to succeed, your desire for success should be greater than your fear of failure."

- Bill Cosby

Contemplating the letter with an address written in my own hand, my stomach was in my throat and my heart was pounding. 

"Weird, no return address," my husband said, looking down at it. 

He wouldn't have known what it was. I submitted the manuscript while he had been away training, and for the life of me I couldn't imagine why I had done it that way. Doing so was like a football player waiting for their coach to look away so they could start the play and throw a Hail Mary on the first down, instead of taking full advantage of having a coach who wanted the player to succeed; almost more than the player did. It made no sense. 

"It's the letter about the manuscript I sent in," I replied, hesitating before reaching out to take it.

After sending it off I told him what I had done, so he knew I had been waiting for it and it didn't catch him off guard.

Before I even opened it, I knew what it would say. The envelope was far too thin to consist of more than a, "No, thank you". It would have to be thicker, right? If they wanted to publish me, the envelope would have to be thicker. So while the word 'scrawny' was running around my mind like a greyhound on a dog track, I ripped it open. 

The usual words you read when being rejected showed up: thanks, we're sorry, it's not right for us, best of luck! I had been expecting it, but even then the words didn't exactly glance off the armor I had been building up since sending off the manuscript. 

After a moment though, I realized something: I wasn't precisely upset. Not that being rejected is ever easy, but I had known when I sent the manuscript off it wasn't publishing-grade material. So why had I done it?

It was the kick in the ass I needed to get my writing started again. I've been mulling over Nyx's story in my head, in one form or another, for at least a decade. I have started and stopped her story more times than the illustrious Zsa Zsa Gabor has been married, and changed it even more than that. 

So while the letter didn't exactly bring me joy, it brought me something even better. Determination. 

Recently I submitted a short story about Nyx on the Writer's Digest website for their annual contest. I'm not expecting to win the grand prize, (though I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to), but I would be over the moon if I at least placed in my category: Genre Fiction - Fantasy. 

It's a start, and I intend to make more of it than just a beginning. 

Looking down at the letter now, it makes me smile. For some, getting the first rejection letter when you're an author is like having your first real taste of battle after months of training, and it has only made me hungrier for success.