It doesn’t matter how it  comes, wrapped in kinds words, and supportive cheers, or mimeographed generalities, it still carries one message, “REJECT”. The kind ones definitely make the blow easier to take, but the end reality is the same. Your story, your work, your baby has been turned away at the door. Denied entrance to the hallowed halls of  the publishing kingdom.

   We tell ourselves a host of things to get us through these times. “They just didn’t understand my story.” Or obviously, they “don’t appreciate art in it truest form.” Or the glass half full versions, “They just didn’t have room for my story,” or “They liked it but it was too close to something they just published.”

    Ah, deluded and rejected. Great. I’d go to a shrink but as a writer/teacher I can’t afford one. Besides my writing has always been my therapy. So, when the rejections come in, as they do time and time again, I turn to my writing. Where I pour out my soul on the page to send it out into cyber space to face further rejection, but with the eternal hope of that eventual “yes”.  Definitely deluded. But I’m in good company.

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