|I thought it would feel like this, with me as the small snowman.|
My favorite poet, Manolo García, has a wonderful song about accepting rejection, which I partially translate below:
"The Citric Lovers" [Not lovers of citrus, but lovers who are made of orange]
I had a love, and I'll have others
but today eating takes up my time
because boys don't cry
the world is so big with its four corners. [There are more fish in the sea.]
So full of possibilities and challenges,
so full of corners to sniff around in,
and of so many beautiful women.
I had a love, or thought I did.
I've been walking alone since daybreak
and new vastness will open up out of this slow road.
I stupidly believed that an orange in love
is half a sphere
belonging to another half sphere. [This is the popular Spanish image for the concept of "soul mates." One's partner is often called one's "half an orange."]
Although late, I discovered that art exists,
and that it consists of citric lovers
making a move at more or less the same time.
Isn't that the truth? All the ducks have to be in a row, all the pieces have to fit, for the magic to take place, with love, with finding an agent, with everything.
If I keep submitting (and getting rejected) at my current rate, I'll be out of possible agents before the end of the year. Cross your fingers I won't run out! And of course, I have something up my sleeve...