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Plaster cast on forearm/wrist/hand. Picture ta...
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I got my first rejection today (outside of a couple short stories when I was much, much younger).  I guess it had to happen sometime.  I guess.  Still, the agent I queried was so gracious and I am so thankful to her for her praise of my writing strengths (this is someone who was already familiar with my work) and, even more for the specificity she used in giving me the reason she was choosing not to represent my manuscript.  It gives me a place to begin again.  They say broken bones heal back more strong.  I imagine the same is true for broken beginnings of stories.  It’s a great grace to be told the truth.  I’m thankful for that.

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