I've never failed this bad. Only one request so far (a partial at that). And fourteen rejections.
Guuuyssss.
This is like my darkest hour. My sadness is demanding boxes (yes, BOXES) of chocolate, a bubble bath, and a really good book.
Instead I'm drowning my sorrows--literally. On Monday I restarted (yes, I've done it before) this kick where you drink the recommended amount of water for your body. 80 ounces, people. I've become very good friends with the bathroom at work. Considering my bathroom phobia, this is a big accomplishment.
Enough peppy humor. I really am concerned. I thought my query letter was perfect. At least, that's what everyone told me. My nearest-and-dearest and strangers around the world can't be liars.
(ARE YOU?!?!?)
By my highly mathematical equations, all these rejections mean one thing: fate owes me, and I'll have a request sitting in my inbox soon.
That logic works, right?
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