Last night, as I was finishing up packing at Nuevo Rancho Lake and getting ready to go to bed so I could get up this morning at the crack of crack and drive 650 miles home to the Witchnest after being gone for over two weeks, I checked my email and found the final agent rejection for Nightcraft Mother.
It’s the final rejection because I’m not going to send out Nightcraft any more. And I’m not going to work on it any more, and I’m not even all that interested in thinking about it any more.
I had a lot of time, alone in my head today for 11 hours, to think about this. I’ve been working on the tales of Calendula Isadora for five years now–I started the original, 250K version of Nightcraft Sister in the fall of 2004. Yes, I’ve written a whole bunch of other things in that five years as well–including a handful of other novels–so it’s not like it’s been all Nightcraft, all the time; but this has been my sort of basic, core project. Callie’s story is fully formed in my head, the whole series, all the way to the end–the five or six or seven books it would take to tell it all.
They’re not going to get written. I’m done. I’m sick of this.
It’s just not hitting, for some reason. And/or I’m just not a good enough writer to pull it off. And/or I’m a better writer now and my fresher, newer stuff will sell. (I do get short stories published, in major markets…) And/or it’s just tough to break in. Or whatever.
But I just don’t feel the love for the project any more. I’ve worked so hard on it, revised it so many times–cut that first book into three, and then two; dropped the first half and made NCM the first in the series; edited it within an inch of its life–it’s too hacked up now, it’s been gone over too much, I think. It’s time to let it go.
Time to let Callie go.
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I don’t usually post about rejections, because it’s tough stuff, and also so common. To everyone, I know. But this one is different. I had a lot of excitement about this particular agent, about this particular version of the manuscript. And her rejection was very kind, and very detailed; she pointed out several areas where the book could be improved, and offered to take another look if I edit it.
But… I can’t. I’m done. I can’t climb that mountain again. I’ll send her Demonhead, when I’m done editing that. Callie’s going on the shelf.
Sorry, Callie.