I've thought long and hard about whether to say anything publicly about what's been going on with me or not. While there are many people on the flist who are aware of what I've been going through this summer, it's not something I've really wanted to talk about publicly. But since I was interviewed for the latest Romance Writers Report (The Romance Writers of America monthly publication) where I talked about this project and I've received some emails asking me about it, I'd better just go ahead and clear the air.

Anyhow, the thing is-- SO SHE DANCES, the YA I had scheduled to come out next summer that was the contemporary reinterpretation of Bizet's Carmen, has been canceled by the publisher. Why? Well, your guess is as good as mine. They approached me with the idea and loving it, I pulled another proposal from submission and set to work on it. The editor who offered me the deal, loved the story I came up with and worked with me through four revisions over fifteen months and was as completely excited by the final draft as I was. In the end, however, the publisher (her boss) didn't think it fit within the parameters of the line and decided not to go ahead with publication. I only received final notification last week although the writing had sort of been on the wall for a couple of months beforehand.

I'm not looking for the poor babies and the hairpats-- (although I won't turn them down, believe me! *g*) and in trying to think of a good reason to 'fess up, beyond not wanting to hem and haw when asked about this project, I thought it might serve as a great example of how simply selling your book doesn't make everything easier. I know it's something that every single published author I know has said, multiple times, and yet, I don't know an unpublished author who doesn't think that we're just blowing smoke. I mean, selling our books is IT, right? After all the revisions and critiques and queries and submissions and rejections, once you finally, finally sell, it's all smooth sailing from there. Guess what? We're not blowing smoke and it's not all smooth sailing.

Selling your books doesn't make things easier. Having your book get published doesn't make things easier. Getting great reviews doesn't make things easier. Winning awards doesn't make things easier. They're all wonderful, don't get me wrong, and I wouldn't trade any of it for the world. Collectively, they're achievements of personal goals, attainment of a long-held dream, but individually, they're just steps on the publishing road. Even this experience, as gut-wrenchingly horrible as it's been, I don't think I would trade, because I learned a lot and at the end of the day, I do have a manuscript that belongs fully to me again and that I can continue to shape into a story I'll be one hundred percent happy to send back out onto the submission rounds when I'm ready.

I won't lie-- this sucks. It sucks big, rotten, hairy donkey balls with a side of suck. I've spent the last week veering between relief that this situation was finally resolved and that I had my rights back to feeling like a complete and utter failure-- the Queen Loser of Loserville. I've had my confidence rocked in ways that make the harshest contest criticism or worst review seem like child's play. I've questioned my abilities not only for writing, but whether or not I should keep going in this industry. In the end, however, (as some very good friends have made a point of reminding me) while I'm very, very good at many things, the one thing I really do suck at is quitting. Just not in my nature.

So I guess I'll keep going.