I Have Become Accustomed To Rejection

Outstanding submission: 14

Rejections: 2

I am in a slump of such epic proportions, my legendary ego has been decimated. I am, clearly, a terrible writer. The evidence speaks for itself. Do not try to convince me otherwise. I am busy being a drama queen over here.

First, a personal rejection from Hobart for a story I love that they do not. They said it was a “good, enjoyable read” but not “Hobart-y” and that also, the length was awkward–not short enough to be a tight short or long enough to be a fully fleshed out story. At least, I think that’s what they said. It’s okay, a very nice rejection.

Second, a form rejection from Memorius wherein I am referred to as “Dear Writer,” for a story I withdrew. Dear Writer. The lowliest of form rejections. The “your writing is not good, please fix that before contacting us again” rejection. I know that rejection. I send it out a lot. I am humbled and hobbled. Normally, I send a tart little response for rejected withdrawn stories but that’s immature and I’m practicing adulthood this week. Also, I was just so flabbergasted to get a response from them. The first two times I submitted to them I never heard anything back. This feels important, like a unicorn sighting. I’m going to preesrve the memory forever and send them something else. I really like Memorius. They have a classy situation. I would also like to make clear that I was overusing the word situation well before Jersey Shore.

I wrote a hard hard story and I think I can finally close the door a wee bit on that particular set of issues. Fine, okay, I can at least move forward a bit. I treat writing like therapy but free and without the discomfort of sitting in a small room with a creepy stranger trying to unpack my disturbed consciousness so I feel pretty good about that. The story needs work but it is maybe not tragically bad. That’s like a triple negative horribly constructed sentence. I’m a writer. That’s what I do.

My primary laptop is in the shop. I miss her so much. She is a wee, delicate thing with an unseated battery. She is being sent to the Apple mothership and I am relegated to using my old Macbook Pro which is a huge tank with a dim screen. I feel like I am really suffering here.

I think I could safely categorize every single post on this blog under the heading: First World Problem, Shut Up.

Hair update next time. In the meantime, Artifice 1 is out and their situation is impossibly gorg. I have a story therein. Please buy a copy and read my story and maybe some of the other writing if you insist and then send me compliments or insults. I’m open to both.