Every writer is told to brace themselves for rejection—to develop a thick skin, to expect disappointment, and to accept that the inbox will mostly echo back silence or polite nos. So when my writing partner and I began relentlessly querying literary agents, I braced for the wave of self-doubt I knew would hit. Each time I pressed “send,” I whispered to myself: their decision does not define the worth of our novel. Our book is already extraordinary. We poured our lives into it