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One example is he never opened the door for me, car or building. I’m a southern girl, he is a southern boy, opening the door is a form of flattery that I revel in. Another example, every birthday, anniversary or Valentine’s it was the same dozen red roses, from the supermarket, despite the fact I repeatedly told him my favorite flowers were hydrangeas. (FYI...I’m not the subtle type, I’m pretty straight forward.) These are two of many examples of little things that were overlooked. Alone, they are petty worthless preferences but added together, their sum equaled him losing me.
As I revise my novel I realize I’m pretty picky. Yes, sometimes I overanalyze to the point of stifling myself. But I find as I keep moving forward, I sort out the little things. Things that individually would not cause an agent to reject my book but if you add all those little things up, I will surely end up in the slush pile.