I offer you this sunny photo of one of my favorite dogwalking areas as proof that I’m not about to slit my wrists or quit writing or anything so dire.

Yes, Nice Agent rejected my latest manuscript one week ago today. At the time I felt bummed and angry. Bummed because apparently he’s not the agent for me, and, thus, I must start the agent-hunting process all over again. Is there such a thing as trying-to-get-published fatigue? I suppose that’s me.

You might ask yourself why Nice Agent can’t still be my agent. So he didn’t fall in love with this manuscript, so what? This is where the angry part comes in. I couldn’t believe the rejection letter he sent me! I am/was a client, after all, and what did he send me but a generic rejection letter! As if my manuscript had come off the slush pile or something! I was steamed about this, to be sure. (Three exclamation points in one paragraph; that’s a record for me — ! — and make that four.)

I don’t take rejection letters personally anymore, yet, last week I was offended. (And I don’t offend easily.) I mean, hello? Do not send me a boilerplate rejection letter with a few pat compliments and then the usual spiel about the competitive marketplace and how you need to be head over heels for a project to be its best advocate and etcetera. As a so-called client, I deserved more than that.

And my God, I’m not an idiot. I know a blow off when I read one. Yes, blow off, because the one thing that he could have written to indicate his continued interest in my writing would have been something like: I’m interested in reading further works; please consider me…etcetera.

But no. So, me thinks Nice Agent is Erstwhile Agent #2.

However, I didn’t let him get away with such a response, not entirely. I replied in a polite yet straightfoward manner, thanking him, pointing out his generic letter, and asking as a kinda-client for more details. I asked him to provide his overall impression of my writing and his opinion about what I need to work on to improve my stories (which is to say, make them more salable).

All this is subjective, I know, but he responded (nicely) with the answer I thought I’d hear: plot/pacing. My stories are too leisurely for his taste.

I’m going to look for a new agent for the two finished manuscripts, don’t get me wrong — they ARE worthwhile and entertaining stories with plots – but I’m also going to ponder pacing. I doubt I’ll ever be a wham-bam-thank-you-’mam kind of writer, but I probably do have more to learn…sigh…