Today, I bailed out–left an old friend in midstream. That's right, when the going got tough, I simply jumped ship. In my own defense, I have to tell you that it wasn't a spur of the moment decision. No, for weeks the idea had been lurking in the back of my mind. First thought on awakening: I have to stop...this is headed nowhere. Second thought: no, that's cowardly. No one said it would be easy. I'll write this story, come hell or high water!

Enter rejection letter from literary agent. Bam! Confirmation that the story is junk! For two days, I read and re-read the letter–all five carefully-constructed paragraphs. Appreciation for my patience, assurance that every manuscript gets undivided attention, commendation on my writing ability and interesting story line, apology for rejecting the submission, and suggestions for enhancing the work.

Okay, I know...a personalized rejection should make me feel better than a one-liner Xeroxed uphill onto photocopied letter head. But it didn't. Rejection is rejection.

What did I do? This morning when I woke up, my first thought was: "Yippee! I don't have to work on the #!$%^# thing! No siree, I can start something new, something more exciting–something better."

In the pre-dawn hours that I call my own, I gathered the detritus of that manuscript, notes and research scattered over four surfaces in my studio. I sorted them, batched them, put sticky notes on them, and stacked them neatly on the shelf, never once noticing that I wasn’t throwing them away. As I worked, my unfettered brain thought about several components of the story, things I didn't like, things I should have changed early on, the sources of my frustration. I placed the unfinished manuscript on top of the pile and looked around the room. Clean and clear, ready for a fresh start.

With no remorse, I took one last look at the stack that represented over two years' work, then walked away.

I got as far as the kitchen. "Wait a minute." I sat down. "What if...?"

Ten minutes later, I'd written down several ideas that would make the story stronger, more intriguing, and better written.

For now, I plan to enjoy this brief freedom, but in the meantime, I owe a certain agent a note of thanks for rejecting me. All I needed was permission to take a break!