Writers do get used to this, but it's always a poignant moment. You've birthed them, raised them up (you hope right), dressed them nicely, polished their shoes, reminded them to clean their teeth and wash behind their ears and be polite, brushed their hair one last time...and then it's onto the train or bus (or high speed internet) and away they go to the Big City. Where they will be scrutinized by Agent, Editor, and anyone else those august beings allow...judges on the evenness of their hem, as well as the attractiveness (or not) of their overall appearance and the quality of their talent. With books as with youngsters heading to the big city to become a singer/dancer/songwriter/composer/musician/painter/writer/actor...their talent will be judged strictly, and not always accurately. The writer's bonny manuscript-child may face rounds of "don't call us; we'll call you if..." without callbacks, despite having what it takes to shine on Broadway or at the Met-equivalents for books. Or the writer may have failed to recognize that this particular book-child just does not have it--and instead should have been kept close to home and told that Cinderella in her drudge phase is a great opportunity for spiritual growth. Not everyone succeeds in New York. Still, every book needs a break, just like every talented person, and writers always hope theirs gets one..
COLD WELCOME boarded the Internet Express this morning, It's number twenty-seven in the count of my novels, though who's counting? (ME!) its younger sibling will start the road to publication in a couple of days. Today I'm too tired, and tomorrow the tree removal people will be chain-sawing right outside this window. I intend to flee to someplace quieter.