OK, so last month, just before my writers’ group meeting, I got two emailed rejections on the same day. That was a major bummer. And, it was a Sunday! Who knew magazines even sent rejections on Sundays?
Well, I got over it. And it’s a month later, another writers’ group meeting on the way. But now, this is tough. It was my birthday, and as so often happens on birthdays, mortality was slipping around my shoulders like a good friend, whispering in my ear that it’s all over, I’m all washed up and old and useless. So I check my email, looking for some good news to cheer me up…and I find a rejection.
Now, this email came from the senior editor. That’s good news! And, she offered praise for my writing, said she liked my voice and style. That’s excellent news! And she said to submit again. That’s like heaven, coming from the senior editor at a magazine I greatly admire.
But all I could see was the rejection. It just shouldn’t happen on one’s birthday. Not when all the defenses are down. I don’t think I had enough wind left in me to blow out one birthday candle, let alone all those that should decorate my cake (good thing that part was already done).
My pity-party is over now. The story is back out in circulation, looking for a home. I’m sure I will be published in said magazine — now I’m really determined to break in. And what a celebration that will be! It’s not often you get to spit in Mortality’s eye.