Way back when, I was masochistic enough to send off some of my written stuff to publishers on a regular basis. I had a ready supply of clasp envelopes, stamps, and printed address labels. I had quarters to get my stories copied, usually at the local library (the time was B.K. = Before Kinko’s). I religiously consulted the most current edition of _The Writer’s Market_.
After amassing a folder’s fill of rejection letters, I stopped all of that nonsense and did more urgent stuff — like my homework. Oh, yeah, and graduating from high school. And college. And getting an office job. And paying bills.
And then doing grad school homework. Oh, yeah, and graduating from the graduate program. And having a teacher job. And still paying bills.
So it was an act of Unmitigated Optimism on my part when I cast off my book proposals to various academic publishers to get my diss published. Oh, yes, I have rejection letters: three of them, to be exact — all of them slim replies to my book proposal packet
Letter four, however, was a “please send us your entire manuscript.”
The Unmitigated Optimistic part of me is going “SQUEEEEE!!!” like a rabid echo-locating bat-squirrel creature.
The practical part of me is going “Be real, woman. Don’t get your hopes TOO high. And if they reject you, it’s not personal. ‘Kay?”
These are not mutually exclusive responses, I know.
All in all, it is nice, to get a publisher’s nibble like this. Where it goes three or four months from now– the time when the editorial staff at Mercer UP reviews my manuscript — I haven’t a clue. So, we’ll see.
If anything — I have three more publishers waiting in the wings, if this one doesn’t pan out.
Momma didn’t raise no stupid chillun…