Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Rejection Hurts

Rejection hurts. There’s no way to block that nasty refusal that hits too close to the heart. The worse response is the one that states: Oh I got a ‘good’ rejection. Who are you kidding? Good rejection? Is that the same as a good root canal?
Sure, I said the same thing. And editors who also include a suggestion on how to make the baby better should get prime seats in Heaven. But it’s still a rejection.
I’ve learned a few tricks to lessen the pain, but nothing totally masks it. They used to come by mail and I thought if I only peeked without unfolding the letter that would keep the bad news inside. Then I’d slide it under the blotter for a few days, maybe a week. Sometimes it gave me a chance to look at it with steady hands and strong heart.
Email is tougher. The subject line can say the title/rejection. Oops, no chance to dodge the stab. Or it starts so nice, with Dear Author. No matter how nice the phrasing, I always interpret it to mean ‘your work stinks and so do you.’
What do I do? I make a cup of tea. I actually read the rejection. Every editor has their own opinion and tastes. If the editor doesn’t like it, okay. The entire world can’t love me. If the editor has valid reasons: the plot isn’t resolved to her satisfaction; the conflict isn’t strong enough; too much description, for example. I can take that away and look at the work with a different view.
I use the adrenaline to get back to writing. I weight the response and have redone the work to make a better book.
Like the saying goes: No pain, no gain.
It’s not too late.
I’m giving away an e-book copy of Ancient Blood on May 27th to celebrate the release by the Wild Rose Press. Just go to one of my May blog appearances and leave a comment where I’m appearing from May 1- May 27, 2011 or at my blog. Enter often. After leaving a comment, please send an email to so I can notify the winner. The winner will be randomly drawn on May 27, 2011 at midnight. For the 1st week in May - Visit The Steam Room at http://www.michelezurlo.com about Tarot
May 25 at The Black Rose blog about being rejected:
May 25 Hosting Stephanie Burkhart, The Wolf’s Torment blog tour: or

May 27 About Ancient Blood:

My new book is available on May 27, 2011
Ancient Blood by Barbara Edwards
Paranormal, strong romantic elements, sensuous
Lily Alban escapes a murderous stalker, but his vicious attack leaves her with the ability to see auras. She finds safety in the tiny hamlet of Rhodes End where a stranger stands out like a red light. Try as she might to deny her growing desire for Cole, she seeks his help but soon discovers the man she loves is not a man at all.
Werewolf Cole Benedict resists his attraction to Lily. A botanist researching the healing herbs to find a cure for Lycanthropy, he’s determined to protect Lily from her stalker as well as himself even in human form, but instinct takes over when he changes to his inner beast.
Together they must use their extraordinary gifts to catch Lily’s stalker before he attacks again, but revealing their secrets to one another could destroy their growing love or save them both.

“Lily?” His strong hands gently cupped her shoulders.
“Don’t, please don’t.”
She pulled away, fully intending to flee. Her resistance shattered, and she turned into his embrace. It was too late to escape. Pressing against his strength, she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. His erection prodded her stomach, and she moaned. A heavy groan filled his throat as he lifted her from her feet. He kicked the bag aside as he sat her on the counter.
“I can’t wait,” he growled. His flaring aura spiraled with colors she couldn’t name. She caught her breath. One hand burrowed through her hair, keeping her still as he stepped between her thighs. “You’re all I could think about all day.”
Clasping her bottom, he slid her to the edge of the counter. With his lips claiming her mouth, he unbuttoned her slacks, than lifted her slightly to push them down and off.
The cold surface only made her more aware of his scorching heat. His rough denim pants scraped her inner thighs in contrast with the silky hair under her palms. Her pulse leaped, and she gasped. His male scent mixed with hints of the wild forest filled her nostrils. When his fingertip explored the heated moisture gathering at her juncture, she tightened her thighs around his hips.
Barbara Edwards
The Wild Rose Press: Ancient Blood, a Black Rose

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