Life has a way of humbling us, sometimes when we least expect it. It did that to me just recently when a story I thought had a good chance of selling (to a publisher) was roundly and unequivocally rejected.
Over the yaers I've received many rejections. You'd think I'd be accustomed to them. And, in some ways, I am. I've developed a tough skin. Or so I thought. But this particular rejection hit me hard. I wondered why I bother even trying. Ironically, my feelings were backed up when my husband and I were audited last week.
Upon learning that I had sold 32 books, the tax auditor asked my husband, "How can she (me) have sold thirty plus books and make so little money?" I ask myself that on a regular basis.
But I keep trying.
This I know for sure: I''m a failure only if I give up.
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