Yesterday, friends, I received a romance manuscript rejection. It was a lovely, kind, thoughtful rejection. It said nice things, but it was still a rejection. Then again, over the years, I’ve come to see that without the rejections, I wouldn’t get the wins.
“You, dear Brit,” I tell myself, “rock rejections better than a rock rocks being rocklike.”
It’s true. Rocks are awesome. But I rock more.
As I write this post, The Man is in the other room doing his day job. Every time I pass him to get a cup of tea, (I’m known as The Brit for a reason!) I kiss his head. I love the scent of his hair. I love to feel his warmth. I love it when he pulls me in and holds me around him.
Yes, I love The Man more than anything in this world.
And I’d never have found him if I hadn’t left a partner who simply wasn’t that interested in me. I felt terrible about leaving. He didn’t want me to go. But as it happens, once I’d gone, he soon found someone else—someone who suited him better.
Rejection has to happen, right?
It makes way for love.
Romancey Pants 
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