Boyfriend Breakups Taught Me Everything I Needed to Know About Getting Published

I have finished my second novel (hereafter referred to as, The History...) and am rewriting the first (hereafter, Stolen Private Life...).  I am also taking a break from querying The History.   Rejection--however "inevitable," however "normal in this business, blahblahblah"--requires a bit of digestion on my part.  In fact, rejection has never been easy for me. To this day my heart pangs when I remember the way Gregg V. broke up with me in 9th grade: Through his best friend, Billy M. 

Here's how it went:

Billy M. stealthily approaches a gaggle of girls milling around a locker after school.  Adjusts baseball cap, rubs nose on back of hand, yawns.

Billy M.:   Gregg wants to break up.  But he wants to know if he can still come to your party next weekend.

Me:  Oh. And no, he can't come to my party next weekend.

After Billy went on his merry way, I cried, loud and long, while my friends clucked and patted and told me Gregg V. would be sorry one day, he'd regret it, he was a jerk, anyways. And the nerve of him, about the party!

Thing is, I didn't even like Gregg V. all that much. We "dated," if that's what you want to call making out fiercely in my basement three times over the course of two months.  But breaking up with me via a friend? Geesh.  (Of course, I did co-opt the experience for one of my books, only it's the protagonist's best friend who breaks up thusly for her.)

I was boy crazy from about the age of 13 to--let's just say, late-ish in life. It's entirely embarassing, especially for a feminist,  but there it is.  I have this theory that I was trying to substitute the attention I did not get from my father, who was distant when he was home--which wasn't often. Or maybe it was merely because I was a spewing fountain of hormones.  Whatever.   At any rate, the many breakups--even when I wasn't so attached to the guy--hurt.   What I didn't understand 'til recently was that every time some guy broke my heart, it brought me closer to realizing what I did and didn't want in a relationship. 

And that's what people assure me now: That every rejection from an agent brings you closer to finding the right one, and getting published, and living happily ever after.

Though there's still that pang.