I Got A Like During #Pitmad
I got a “like” from an agent during #Pitmad on Twitter. It was the first time I was seriously participating in the pitch contest and I was completely shocked to get a response. The novel I pitched has been a project for over ten years. It’s finished. Complete. Waiting to be read. It’s a decade of my life on paper and I’m trying to hand it to someone. I’m the beggar on the street except instead of asking for handouts, I’m asking for someone to take what I have to offer.
I got a like.
I got a like and I wanted to shrink. I didn’t want anyone else to see the like. I have such supportive friends on Twitter and I knew they would be watching and retweeting and I was overwhelmed with the idea that they would see the like because the like means possibility. The like means hope. And it’s much easier to live in the never-going-anywhere category. I didn’t want to tell anyone. Hope was in my fingertips, an itchy tingle, and it was creeping up my arms and going straight to my heart. I was creating next-step scenarios and imagining my book’s cover art.
I was nauseated.
My husband wanted to open our special bottle of wine because I got a like. I refused.
“This isn’t that big of a deal. Let’s save it.”
But he knew it was a big deal. It’s a big deal to get a like out of how many thousands? I don’t know because math isn’t my strong suit. I know the number of people who receive a like during this pitch contest are low, but the screen on my phone is small. I see only what’s in my algorithmic feed, not all the others out there wanting what I got.
I read the agent’s requirements. I looked at her website, read her bio, reviewed her client list. I rewrote my query letter and then had to lie down. I told my mom. I rewrote it again, had snacks, and sent it to a friend to review, which meant I had to type the words, “I got a like.” This made the situation that much more real.
I sent the letter and pages off and decided it was done.
I was rejected. Again. No rejection is comfortable. They all chip away, nicking the toughened skin or gouging, depending on the day.
Why did this rejection hurt more than the others?
Because it was a glimmer, a nibble, a peak at a yes. And that’s what we all want, isn’t it? A yes.
Yes, you are good.
Yes, you have value.
Yes, you can do this.
I reached the first hurdle, just didn’t make it over the top.
But I did touch it.
On a random night this last week, my husband and I opened our special bottle of wine.
