If you’re new here, I want to be a fiction novelist. To get my “foot in the door,” I’ve been submitting short stories and prose to magazines and journals while I’m finishing up my current mss.
I recently sent one to a “big name” sci-fi mags on my list and my story just got rejected. (Whatever. Try another one.) But the way it was rejected is probably one of my top favorites. It just tickles my funny bone! …So much that I want to scream and punch a clown.
The mag lost the response email to me. I knew they had responded because I checked their URL for the status of my story. And it said they had responded. So I had to go ask them for my response. And they were all nice about it. So of course that little annoying voice Hope (that asshole) said “See? They wouldn’t be that nice if you just got rejected…”
But I got the letter anyway and I felt stupid for getting all hopeful because I’m so damn used to rejection letters that I should have just seen it coming. (But the funny thing is, no matter how much you see them coming, rejection letters never get easier to receive…)
Let me recap that whole thing for you: I had to ask for my rejection letter.
It doesn’t get any more stab-you-in-the-heart-kick-you-when-you’re-down than that. Well, yeah it does, but I’ll just wait to write about that one. ‘Cause I’m sure that’s coming. Ha.
Keep on the sunny side, kids. Taste the rainbow. And all that crap. The end.
AND I just got a brand new rejection letter. (I can’t even keep count anymore!)
This is awesome.
No it’s not.
But if I don’t keep laughing, I might start screaming. Or crying. Or punching cute, fuzzy things.
…Well, no, I wouldn’t, really. I’d probably hug them in a corner while listening to Fair to Midland on repeat. Yeah.