After a great evening out with Esther, I got home to a quiet and empty apartment and found a package leaning against my door. The package had my handwriting on it -- it was the SASE I sent along with my manuscript. The manuscript had been rejected.
"I've read the first 50 pages of your novel and couldn't care enough about your narrator to want to read further," the agent wrote.
She suggested two books for ideas on "how to create a debauched narrator." And I'm left to wonder if my narrator is really all that debauched. That's not what I was shooting for.
At least she read through those first 50 pages and offered valid criticism -- something more than "not right for us."
If anyone needs me, I'll be in my bed weeping off the effects of another rejection.