I've been through a strangely hellish yet very encouraging ride over the last two years in my quest to sell a novel. Sometimes I think the quest is just that—a Quixotic thing, and as soon as I actually get an offer, I'll get hit by lightning. I'm like that old priest in Caddyshack. He played the game of his life, but he sure picked his days badly.
So ... right now, it looks like another publisher is about to ask for non-contractual revisions to one of my books. That would make three. If it happens this way, I'd have to put those revisions in line with the other set of non-contractual revisions I'm currently working on (and I hope are finally going well, thank you very much).
I know the economy is an issue, and no one really wants to take a chance on an unknown author, but c'mon people, this is getting a little ridiculous. Still, I'm not complaining. I know I'm lucky to even be getting this level of attention. My rejections are actually pretty uplifting. It could be worse.
Which brings me back to my problem. I'm not the bitter type, or the envious type, or even the defeated type (on most days). But I'm afraid I'm becoming the cynical type. I was just sitting here thinking, "You know what, it doesn't matter whatever revisions I do, it's just going to be the same thing all over again ..."
I wish I could say I was too young to be cynical, but I think I'm exactly the right age to be cynical.