The Balloon Has Landed–Almost

But yes, by all means, happy birthday if it's your birthday. Or happy un-birthday, if it isn't.

But yes, by all means, happy birthday if it’s your birthday. Or happy un-birthday, if it isn’t.

Wordy Wednesday

You are a small child. You have been to a birthday party and been given a helium-filled balloon. You take that balloon home and bat it around for a few days. You tie the end of the string to your bedroom doorknob. Over the next few days after that, the balloon gets smaller and smaller and sinks lower and lower. Finally it is lying in a limp and shriveled blob on the floor. Unless, of course, your parents decided to put it out of its misery (and themselves out of theirs) days ago and popped it for you and threw it away already.

I feel that my hopes about my latest Favored One submissions are at the pre-popped-but-just-barely-hovering-over-the-floor-stage. Some of them have been out for two months already. Granted, the most recent one went out via snail-mail maybe two weeks ago, and the one before that may have only been waiting a month, but I think that agency also promised a two-week turnaround, so I’m not hugely optimistic. True, Cricket Magazine‘s publishing arm did have Trees in the Pavement for a long time . . . before rejecting it. Although the point is they did get back to me eventually. But is every literary agency and publishing company going to do that with all of my books? I mean, I guess it could happen, but it doesn’t seem very likely.

This, it turns out, is the downside of email submissions: with snail-mail you can send an accompanying SASE and be assured of getting at least a rejection letter back, which I actually think is better than not knowing until all expectations have died of natural causes. There comes a time, apparently, when the buoyant, helium-filled hope that comes from waiting more than a week to hear back, turns into the deflation of assuming that I’ll never hear back at all.

But don’t worry. That balloon is still just above the floor. Maybe I’ll still be pleasantly surprised. Maybe?


P.S. Tech-moron’s note: Does anyone know why I suddenly can’t get my text to wrap next to my left-side photos anymore?


10 thoughts on “The Balloon Has Landed–Almost

      • My fiancee read a free Kindle chicklit. Maybe it’s just me, but those three words together sound like a writer’s horror story. I have nothing against chicklits; I absolutely loved Bridget Jones’s Diary and know that there are very decent books out there, but every time I peaked over her shoulder, I cried a little and cringed. It was the most horrible book ever written. The grammar was as pleasant as dipping a papercut in orange juice, sentences stopped for no reason and when in the last chapter the female protege was in an airplane mourning over how Mr Dreamy decided to stay with his wife (sounds like a good choice, but it’s still a book), she met her future husband for the first time in the seat next to her. Two pages later, they were married and the book was done.

  1. I hope that balloon will go high again. Or at least me replaced with another.

    I’m not a tech-moron, but I’d try refreshing. Sometime’s WordPress likes to play tricks but the solution is usually easier than we suppose.

      • Hmmm, I am wondering what you put inside that balloon? Hot air doesn’t last nearly as long as helium :-). of course we could try,(but I don’t recommend) hydrogen :D.

        As far as wrapping goes perhaps a nice ballad would work better.

        Kidding aside does it matter where in the column you place the pic? Sometimes i have a problem with this, ( not sure why) if I try to place the pic before any text has been written…

  2. This is a lovely analogy. It is terrible having to wait for replies; if anything, rejection letters are something of a relief as at least it makes things clear. Jack London’s estate contains a collection of 600 rejection letters if that is any comfort!

    In fact, the real success is that you submitted something in the first place. That takes a lot of courage and many people don’t even get that far.

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