In the early days of writing The Valkyries, I had a simple outlook on the road to publishing: I write a book, I find an agent to represent me, the agent submits it to publishers, and the publisher edits, markets, and sells it.
Simple, right?
Later on, I established my social media accounts to interact with the writing community. I designed this website, established a FaceBook-Instagram linked profile, and even set up an account on X.
And that is where the curtain was drawn back.
Writers of all ages and backgrounds across various genres, all sharing their spectacular victories…
And heartrending defeats.
I saw what finding an agent was really like.
Some posts showed writers championing their works for months or even years without a single flicker of interest.
Other posts showed writers garnering enough interest to share their full manuscript—only to hear “it doesn’t quite fit what I’m looking for.”
For every post sharing an author’s victory, ten more posts shared heartbreaking defeats.
And yet, like a moth to the flame, I still chose this path.
But I didn’t go in blind: I found a list of over 200 agents, analyzed each of their wishlists, reviewed their lists of recent projects, and ultimately ranked them based on their responsive rates—both positive and negative.
Mentally, I had a plan, and knew what awaited me on the other side of the door:
Rejection after rejection after rejection.
I knew it was inevitable, that I may query 100 agents before I found the one who would believe in The Valkyries as much as me.
But emotionally, how would I respond to an agent’s rejection?
So much time spent writing The Valkyries from a flicker of an idea, nurturing the spark into my first novel, pouring my soul into the stories of Kaelva, Astrid, and Freyna. Sharing The Valkyries meant sharing my heart—how would I react when someone would say “it isn’t enough?”
Now I know, because my first rejection arrived just last night:
Dear David,
Thank you so much for your query. I genuinely appreciate the opportunity to consider your manuscript, but I’m afraid I’m going to pass, as I don’t feel that I could represent your work with the requisite enthusiasm. Again, thank you for sharing your work with me, and I wish you all the best in finding the perfect agent to champion your career.
All the best,
S
I won’t lie: it stings.
I received a form rejection, a standard rejection letter.
No critique. No advice. No “hey, Agent ABC at agency XYZ would be interested.”
Just…
No.
And I’m okay with that.
Because the way I read this rejection is not “The Valkyries isn’t good enough.”
Or “your writing isn’t up to par.”
And definitely not “the premise is bad, cliche, or boring.”
I read this rejection letter as someone saying “this doesn’t fit my taste.”
I offered someone a Coca-Cola who prefers Pepsi.
They saw value in what I shared, but it simply wasn’t for them. Maybe they prefer more cozy, upbeat stories as opposed to the grim, epic fantasy The Valkyries delivers.
I queried, got rejected, and now I adjust before querying someone else.
And on and on we go.
Because querying is a numbers game, and no one wins without suffering countless defeats.
In the meantime, I dive into the next installment of The Valkyries, a tale of consequences and revenge.
The title?
Blood Debt.
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