It wasn’t long ago that I was
going over my rejection letters from CHASING CLOVERS. Twelve white papers sat
before me. Some with letterhead, some without, and even a few with coffee
stains on them. Within the neatly typed letters, four stood out above the
rest—four with the same inscription... Dear Writer.
I wasn’t important enough for
them to address the letter to me. The letter they send all the rejects.
Nope, I am Dear Writer.
The first time I received a
rejection letter I sighed loudly, and tossed the paper into the pile of NO’s
slowly growing on the right side of my desk.
The second time my jaw
clenched, and for a few seconds I think I lost my vision. I took a deep cleansing
breath, and then off to the pile it went.
The third time my hand
tightened, crinkling the paper a smidgen. I bit my lip from yelling out vulgar
profanity, took ten deep breaths that burned my nostrils and throat. I waved
the paper in the air and threw it into the pile on the right.
The fourth time I clenched the
paper within both hands, spewed out “Dear Writer” in every mimicking way I
could along with a few “Thank you Jack Ass’”, and crumpled the paper up into a
tight ball. I went outside and lit it on fire. As I watched the orange flames
lick the curled paper, my temper began to subside and I came back to reality.
Every writer goes through this, right? It’s never the first time. Heck, it’s
usually never the first book. I picked up the charred ball from the pavement,
and went inside to run it under some cool water.
The only part that wasn’t
burned beyond recognition...Dear Writer.
Dear Damn Writer. Ugh.
I stared at the two words for
a long time, my eyes misting—my throat tight. Was I ever going to get this book
published? I picked up what was left of my pride and dragging my feet, my chest
tight, I went back to my office. I reached for the rejection letters, and
spread them all over my desk. Words jumped out at me. “Good, but not good
enough.” “You’re almost there, but this needs work.” “Keep trying.” “Sorry,
no.” “We do not publish new writers.” “Please, do not waste our time.” (ouch)
I picked up my book, loose
papers bound by two elastic bands, with scribbles from editing sprawled across
the pages. I ruffled the edge with my thumb casting a faint breeze. The clean,
dry scent filled my nostrils, and I smiled. The smell of paper is like homemade
bread to a writer.
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Kat Flannery has
loved writing ever since she was a girl. She is often seen jotting her ideas
down in a little black book. When not writing, or researching, Kat enjoys
snuggling on her couch with a hot chocolate and a great book.
Her first novel,
CHASING CLOVERS became an Amazon’s bestseller in Historical and Western
romance. This is Kat’s second book, and she is currently hard at work on the
third.
When not
focusing on her creative passions, Kat is busy with her three boys and doting
husband.
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