Once I sold a book, I figured I’d reached the career equivalent of the Promised Land. As far as I was concerned, I signed my contract and immediately crossed over to that wondrous place where the requests for my novels and expertise flowed like milk and honey. Surely I’d never again have to read those heartbreaking words that plague unpublished writers everywhere: “Thank you very much for submitting … I regret to inform you …”

No, I reassured myself. A book deal insulated me from all that ugliness.

So you can imagine my dismay the other week when I got an e-mail passing on a proposal I’d submitted to teach an online writing workshop. Double that and you’ll understand how I felt when I got ANOTHER rejection, this time for a workshop proposal I’d submitted for the national conference in Atlanta in July. True, I did have a second Atlanta workshop proposal selected, but that’s not the point.

The point, in case you’re not paying attention, is that my ideas were rejected. REJECTED. Does anyone out there feel my pain?

I’d like to say I’ve matured over the years and don’t take every single rejection letter to heart, but that’d be a big fat lie. I still sulk and pout like a two-year old. But after a couple hours of this (oh, and a HUGE piece of chocolate cake after dinner) I snapped right out of it.

Well, mostly.

Oh, who am I kidding? Four and a half years into this whole romance-writing thing, rejection still stinks and I hate it worse that ever.

I’m headed to the kitchen to find another piece of chocolate cake. And then I’m going to stop whining and get back to work.