It's hard to be anything but when you do what you told yourself and everybody else you wouldn't do--get your hopes up about your YA book getting published--and then get rejected.
It was a nice letter, but it's still one of those moments.
You stare at it.
You hold your breath. You click on it.
You read it. Again. And one more time for good measure.
You stare away the moisture--those are not tears.
You decide not to tell anybody.
Then you decide to tell everybody.
A big long exhale, and.... Here we go again.