After four years of writing on and off, I finished my first novel last fall. It was a crazy feeling, a fantastic feeling, and as I toasted myself over the printed copy, I marveled at how pretty it was, all finished and polished and pure. Then I started trying to sell it, and the feeling of accomplishment faded.

For those uninitiated to the world of turning that pristine word document into a bookstore product, it’s a bitch. Publishing companies rarely look at novels without agent representation. Agents get inundated with requests to represent novels, so they demand a standardized contact method of the query letter. Within the space of a few short paragraphs, the writer must create a sense of excitement about the book with a catchy synopsis, writer bio, and various pleasantries. Writers have to break through the ever-growing pile of query letters and convince agents to uncross their eyes, take a deep breath, and request more.

So that’s where I am. Over 50 queries to agents across the country who are interested in literary fiction. Less than half have responded, mostly with the “sorry for the form letter, but this ain’t my bag, baby.” But then last week – I got a hit. One glorious, lovely agent requested to the first 100 pages of the book.

Surviving this process is about managing expectations. I started the agent submission process with the expectation that it would take a lot of work, a lot of contacts, a lot of rejections, and some major disappointment. By expecting that, I keep that thick skin that I’ve talked about before. By expecting that this will be a slog, that the result may well be failure, I keep my focus and feelings in control. I have in the back of my mind an idea for my next novel, and if this first book doesn’t hit an audience, perhaps the next will.

What I didn’t count on is the pesky and perverse power of hope. I got that letter from the agent last week wanting to read more, and immediately I started envisioning advances and royalties and book signings and reviews and…well. It’s a lot tougher to manage the expectations when something good happens. It’s going to be a worse rejection than the others when she writes back with her “thanks, but…” letter.

There’s so much hope and self-confidence that goes into launching a writing career that it seems blasphemous to reject all that. But it seems like the only conceivable, self-preserving method of emerging whole and healthy from the book submission process is to do just that, to expect the worst and be happily surprised with the best.

Any other book submission vets out there? How did you/do you survive?