Six years ago, I sent out Polishing the Bones to 120 agents. And I received 130 rejections. Overt. Or just ghosted.

I received one piece of feedback that I clung to. I couldn’t connect with your character.

What the hell did that mean?

I Google searched and read and researched and floundered. I restarted the querying process and still met with a helluva lotta nothing.

And then one day, I asked my oldest to read my opening chapter. They hit through a handful of pages and said they really liked my main character’s mother. But they didn’t really like my main character, Beth.

What the hell?

My oldest explained that Beth didn’t move. She just stood on the fringes of the action and watched. Buy her mother, Donna? She moved. She got her hands dirty.

Beth was the axis on a carousel. She was in the center of the action that was hinged to her and pretty much controlled it caused by her. But she was inert.

Ah. I get it now.

So I tried again. And this time, Beth moved but she was so anxious that people didn’t want to read about her because she made them anxious.

Yay. I got people to respond. Boo that the writing was too dramatic.

Try again.

I took classes on writing and editing. Joined another writers group to get just another round of insight.

And I wrote and I didn’t write and I waited for inspiration as time and life slipped past me.

Then, last November, I wrote the Bear Box Diner. And I found my voice and my style and my passion —not just my love— for writing.

And so in December I went back to Polishing. And I wrote and I edited and revised and wrote some more.

Until I had a complete manuscript and then huddled in fear.

What do I do now?

Six years ago, I printed out every single query letter and numbered them to show my students the art of perseverance. And the reality of failure. Because I did.

And I was ready a month ago to send out. But the query letter paralyzed me. I went back and reread my old letter. I read Jane Friedman’s site. I read Query Shark’s site (Rest in Peace and thank you for all you had done). And then I worked some more.

And I finally cobbled together a query letter that could stand behind.

And so. Today. I sent out my first two query letters in six years.

And tomorrow, I will send out two more. And so I will continue until I have exhausted myself or reached the end.

Or maybe. Just maybe. Maybe this time there will be a yes?