Sorry for getting all melancholy on you yesterday. I try to avoid that, but sometimes...sometimes it creeps up on me.
A few bright spots in my birthday jubilee were watching my children and husband sing to me through the glow of six tall candles, having dinner with my lovely and cherished friend Tricia last night and receiving an encouraging rejection letter on my novel.
An acceptance would've been, of course, supernova dazzling, but the agent jettisoning my little story did say, and I quote, "you have strong characters and a fascinating subject matter. You have a nice voice and writing style that comes across well in your manuscript."
She suggested I develop my protagonist more, which is an idea other agents never passed on to me. And the best part? She asked to see it again! She's the first to request another look. A v. nice New Yorker she is.
I'm majorly overhauling this story anyway, so, when it's fresh and sparkly and ready to go (at least in my mind), I'll send it on to her.
And hope. And try to start the next thing so I don't preoccupy myself with her response.