Whether Mercury is in retrograde or I'm being punished for accidentally carting that unscanned 12-pack of Cherry Seven-Up out of Target*, I've had a bad day.
My first e-mail this morning was a notification that my favorite restaurant is closing next week. Soon, I may be reduced to actually cooking.
Next, my husband insulted my food. I barely let him live. He then spilled concentrated red energy drink on my car mat, and since it's probably made of alien polymers, the stain will be with me forever.
Then I had to go get an oil change in the rain with a baby strapped to my chest.
And I won't even tell you what happened in the TJ Maxx bathroom.
At this point, I joked to myself, "With a day like this, I'm sure to get a rejection."
And I did. Not just a query rejection-- an agent that I really admire and like (thanks to Twitter and blogging) rejected a partial manuscript because part of the story didn't work for her.
But you know what? I'm okay.
Why? Because tonight, I get to write on my new book.
It's better than my old book. Deeper, richer, both more simple and more intricate. I like the new book so much that I care less that the first book is getting rejected, because I can now see its flaws from an outside perspective.
I'm so busy with the new book that the old book doesn't feel like "my" book anymore. It's like a child that has grown up and left the nest, and I don't really care as much whether it's successful or turns to stripping, as long as it doesn't sleep on my couch, because that would be a bad influence for the new book.
In short, it was a bad day, but it's going to be a good night, because I get to write.
*I forgot it was in the bottom of my cart and didn't realize that I hadn't paid for it until I got home and looked at the receipt. I still feel bad about it. Maybe not bad enough to give Target $3 and explain it to Customer Service. But bad.