Dear Writer,

This week, I was happily working on my next novel—ten chapters in—when I got a cheery email from my agent. “Notes coming tomorrow!” That would be notes on my previous novel, which I’ve rewritten twice, working with her.

Ruh-roh.

Because if she was sending “notes,” that meant there was more rewriting to do. The email I really wanted to get would be the one that said we were ready to start sending it out. And then the notes from her and her team arrived, recommending rewrites more extensive than I had imagined.

And I have to confess—it threw me. I read and re-read the email, but no matter how I spun it, there was more work to do. And it felt like being rejected all over again. Like my book wasn’t good enough. Like I wasn’t good enough.

It was all I could think about for a little bit. Rejection is like that—it overwhelms you so that all you can do is obsess about it. I had a hard time moving forward for half a day or so. Couldn’t quite process what I needed to do for the rewrite, couldn’t get back into the flow of the new novel. Spent time feeling sorry for myself. (In the middle of a month-long writing retreat in the south of France, I might add—how ridiculous is that?)

Until the obsessive fog cleared and I started thinking more clearly. And then I realized something. A couple of somethings, actually. First, my agent is determinedly helping me make this book deeper and richer. When first I wrote it, I thought of it as a simple romance. And now it is moving into women’s fiction territory.

And second, I have a top-flight agent willing to take this time and energy and care with me and I’m complaining? She wants to help me make this book as good as it possibly can be.  She has, in a nutshell, faith in me. So shouldn’t I have some faith in myself as well?

Yes, yes I should.

Last week on the blog, I wrote about a friend who spun in many different directions, never landing on one, because she lacked faith in herself. This week the spinner was me. The one who counsels other writers never to lose faith, to keep going, to get to the page regularly.

I should know better, right? Well, yes. But I share my story to emphasize that it happens to all of us, all the time. And the only trick is to let it wash through you and then carry on. Take a day or a week to spin, instead of a lifetime.

And then get thee back to the page.