Ah, querying—the wild ride that every writer knows is coming but no one is truly prepared for. Today, I found myself at one of the lowest dips on that ride. Two weeks ago, I was soaring high with the news that a literary agent had asked to read more of Marked by Fate. It was my first positive response, and let me tell you, my heart was doing flips. I spent 14 days filled with cautious optimism, daydreaming of the possibilities.

But today? Today, I got the rejection email.

Her email was polite—gracious even—but the words stung all the same:

Cue the sound of my hopes deflating like a sad balloon at the end of a party. You know, the kind that floats around the room in slow, spiraling circles before hitting the floor. That’s exactly how I felt reading those lines—like the wind had been knocked right out of me.

This was the agent who’d asked for more. My first nibble! For a glorious two weeks, I lived in the world of “what if?” What if she loves my book? What if she asks for the full manuscript? What if this is the agent who’s going to help bring Marked by Fate into the world? I kept refreshing my inbox, a little bubble of hope expanding inside me with each passing day.

And then, the bubble burst.

Honestly, it wasn’t unexpected. I’ve been preparing myself for rejection since I first hit “send” on those query letters. I mean, this is the querying process—rejection is baked into the very foundation of it. We all know it’s coming. But knowing something in theory and experiencing it firsthand? Two very different things.

I read her email three times. She didn’t even hate the book—it just didn’t “grab” her. No zing. I tried to picture what that meant. Was my manuscript like a lukewarm cup of coffee when she was expecting an espresso shot? Maybe I was more of a slow burn when she wanted fireworks. Who knows? That’s the thing about this process—so much of it is subjective. One agent’s “meh” could be another’s “wow!”

But still, it stings. I won’t lie—after reading that email, I took a moment (okay, maybe more than a moment) to wallow. I sat in my favorite comfy chair, stared at the ceiling, and allowed myself to feel the disappointment. Because it’s okay to feel down about this. It’s okay to admit that rejection hurts, even when you knew it was a possibility.

And then, after wallowing for an appropriate amount of time (which may or may not have involved eating way too many cookies), I had to remind myself: this is part of the journey. If anything, today was just another stop on the roller coaster that is querying. For every up, there’s a down. And as much as I hate to say it, I know this won’t be my last rejection.

The thing is, though, this doesn’t mean the end of Marked by Fate. It’s just the end of the road with this particular agent. And while she might not have felt the zing, someone else will. I have to believe that. Otherwise, I’d never be able to press “send” on another query letter.

I think part of what makes querying so tough is the emotional investment we have in our stories. Marked by Fate isn’t just words on a page to me—it’s years of ideas, many late-night writing sessions, and countless revisions. It’s characters I love, a world I’ve built from the ground up. So when an agent says, “Not for me,” it feels personal, even when it’s not.

But here’s the thing—rejection doesn’t mean my story isn’t good. It just means it’s not the right fit for that agent. And finding the right fit is the name of the game here. So, while today feels like a loss, it’s really just one more step on the path to finding the agent who will feel that zing. The one who will love Marked by Fate as much as I do.

So, what’s next? Well, I’ll probably spend another hour or so wallowing (in moderation this time—I swear I won’t eat the whole cookie jar), and then I’ll dust myself off and get back to querying. Because at the end of the day, I still believe in this book. I still believe in these characters. And I still believe that somewhere out there is an agent who’s going to read Marked by Fate and think, “This is it. This is the one.”

And until then, I’ll keep hitting “send,” keep crossing my fingers, and keep chasing that elusive zing.

To all the writers out there, keep going. Rejections are just part of the process—frustrating, sure, but they’re not the end of the road. Your story deserves to be told, and the right person will come along to help you tell it. We’ve just got to hang in there long enough to find them.

And maybe stock up on cookies for the ride.