Well, I received two rejections in the last few days. I don’t normally talk about rejection. It’s rather personal. Like when that cute little red haired girl in school just sort of laughs at you when you ask her out. It cuts deep to the soul.
I know you aren’t supposed to take it personally and I know as a writer I’m somehow supposed to develop this thick skin, but despite having been doing this off and on for *cough*decades*cough* rejection still hurts.
But that’s what made these two different. They were rejections, but they weren’t the typical, “Not for us,” or “doesn’t fit our needs at this time.” These rejections, each in their own way, offered hope and uplifted my spirits.
The first was a short,very short, 100 word story I had submitted to Necrotic Tissue, a horror ezine. I didn’t make the cut, they only accept 10 stories per period I believe. But mine was in the top 20%. I later learned that they had received 80 submissions. So 20% of 80 is… um… something, huh?
So that made me feel good.
The other rejection was for one of the novels I’m circulating. The agent said it wasn’t for her, it was too light (meaning she handles more serious fare). But, and here’s the uplifting part, she thought it was a clever premise and some agent is going to love it.
Now I just have to go and find that agent.