I threw away my shot. Hamilton would've been disappointed.

At a summer writer's conference, I pitched a book idea to a number of agents. Several had helpful suggestions for improvements, and I found one who I believed would finally get my novel in print (my dream for the past four years). In a class session with him, he boosted this confidence:

"I'm looking for YA authors."
Check.

"I want to represent younger writers."
Only 19 but my mind is older . . .

"I want female authors."
Get any warmer and we'll burn ourselves!

I pitched my book idea to him, and he suggested a few edits for the first three chapters. He also gave me a list of somewhere between 100-200 things to fix. Certain "weed words" such as being verbs and words like "eye" and the word "as." After I cleaned up the manuscript, I would send it to him. The second our session ended, I began to revise.

Phase One

The conference finished the 11th of June. I edited every day, sometimes for 12 hours on end.

- Reduced 1500 being verbs to 45.

- Got rid of 187 (yes I counted) different categories of words ranging from color to contractions (the list of edits made takes up 7 pages in a Word doc single-spaced).

25 days later (roughly 250-300 hours I work) I sent the manuscript to him. He replied the next day setting up a Skype call. On the call, he gave me another list of edits. He also said I was doing very well and had written decently (phases ahead of a few other clients, he mentioned).

Phase Two

In 10 days, I made the next round of edits. I sent him the changes.

No reply.

Waited three weeks and sent a follow-up email. Two weeks after that I received a reply saying he had overbooked himself and couldn't take on any new clients. He encouraged me to keep working on the novel.

Phase Three

In November (10 weeks and 4 days later), he sent an email rejecting the manuscript.

Rejection, such as the example mentioned above, is painful. Poisonous. Paralyzing.

Those who have seemingly poured their hearts into something only to have it shoved into a haphazard envelope in 3rd class mail wonder:

What did I do wrong? Is this because of my personality? How did I come so far only to fail? Should I even risk getting my heart broken again? Should I quit everything now?

I don't claim to have all the answers. But here's what a very personal and painful rejection taught me.

1. I was willing to take the risk

Wayne Gretzky once said, "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take." If I had not pitched to the agent and followed-up, I would have lost. If I didn't try, the failure would've cut me far more than if I had tried.

2. Sometimes you "try everything," and still fail

300 hours in the first phase is a significant amount of work. Whether the book or my personality didn't qualify enough to be a published novelist, I cannot pin the blame on lack of effort. I would rather lose knowing I tried my best than win with a half-hearted effort.

3. Rejection makes acceptance sweeter

Be honest, if I had received a publishing contract the first time I sent a work to an agent (a play I wrote at 13), I would lack some serious appreciation for the hard work that goes into the craft.

4. Battle stories make good material

Whether these materials shape who I become, or if I simply turn rejectors into book characters, this experience will profit me.

5. As my grandma likes to say, "You're going to kiss a lot of frogs."

I will not reject every warty toad that comes my way simply because the ones that came before wouldn't turn into princes. If I kiss one, and it stays a frog, let it hop along and wait for the next one.