It’s the last thing I want to see in my mailbox but here it is, long, white, with my own hand writing and stamp. I don’t even need to open it to know what’s inside. The sealed and delivered thin envelope contains my failure and rejection. The slip of paper inside has only two sentences. Thank you for your submission. We regret that we are unable to publish it. It invariably ignites a host of negative feelings and ruins my morning.
I put the unsavory letter in my drawer along with the others. Every writer has to have a rejection pile. With the growing on-line submission I even use a dedicated email address to account for all the rejections. They seem a little less ghostly without the white envelope but the disappointment is the same.
I feel sorry for myself for a little while. Moan about it to my cats. And then…and then…go to the next call for submission and stuff the poems into another envelope. SASE be damned.
I once decorated a wastebasket with rejection letters. It kind of made me feel good to notice them as I threw things out.
Good thinking, Deetje! Way to go.