Here are some excerpts from the rejection letter and my responses (which I didn’t email back or anything – I wasn’t feeling that indignant):
Agency: Your manuscript isn’t right for us at this time.
Me: But you only saw the first 50 pages! Are sure? Are you really sure?
Agency: There are numerous agents that might be the right fit for your manuscript.
Me: Well? Who are they? Do you have a list?
Agency: “Don’t give up!”
Me: That’s nice. I can’t dislike you as easily now.
So, what am I doing? Am I jumping in with both feet, composing query letters like a madwoman? Nope. I’m reediting the editedly overedited, edited-again version of Dragonfly Prince. It must need sprucing up, including the 350 pages the agency never set eyes on. And I know this is wrong. I know I need to let it go and concentrate on researching literary agents’ backgrounds to find that perfect fit. But… it… has… to… be… perfect!
Obsessed. I’m completely obsessed at this stage. I want to present the story, but I can’t present the story because it might be rejected if I present it with its current flaws. So I don’t present the story to anyone, and it haunts me like a bean burrito. This stinks.