The other day—the day before yesterday to be precise— I was sent out (yes, it was a passive sort of sent-outedness, for the sending was not aimed directly at me necessarily) to get something, and, as I had seen the mail come, I decided to go out and get it. I do not know what made me decide this, as I rarely receive anything of interest, but it was at least a strange coincidence.
As soon as I saw the envelope on top with my name written on it as I had written it there hardly more than a week before, my immediate response was, "No, not already." Experience has told me that a hasty return means a rejection. (Not that my experience with a slow return has diverged significantly.)
I picked the envelope up. It was too thin to be more than a rejection. But I tore it open nonetheless.
It was, of course.
Then I returned to the house. My little sister saw me coming toward the door and asked if there were anything interesting. I hesitated but a fraction of a moment before I replied lightly: "No."
There was nothing interesting. Perhaps there are occasions when rejection slips are interesting, but this was not one of them. This was bloody annoying. I had not even had a chance to submit anything else yet and I find it better to always have at least one manuscript in a state of uncertainty. So much for that.
6 comments:
"You knock me down! But I get up again! Y'ain't never gonna keep me down!"
Etc. The point of all this, of course, is that getting rejected any number of times less than 10 000 shouldn't affect you. I've never yet seen someone get rejected 10 000 times, but I'm pretty sure that once you do, it just means you get to start counting from one again since 10 000 is such a freaking huge number.
The suspense was marvelous. I kept expecting you to say it was accepted!
Congratulations. I'd give you a cookie, Cap, but you're in Oregon. So eat some cookies in my honor instead.
Let's see... Ten thousand. I like the sound of that. At my average rate that would only take two thousand years... If I continue at the current monthly rate, then it should take 170 years... So within a reasonable number of years--say ten--I would have to aim for about a hundred submissions a month... I don't think I can manage that just now. Oh well.
Oh, shouldn't affect me? Wrong. It should. It should make me work harder on improving my craft and sending out more submissions.
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Cookies... Thankee for the thought. Actually I had some--chocolate chip--just because mom decided to make some. Maybe I should see if there are any left...
If you call that an effect. You should have been doing that anyway, really.
Of course. Still one is in need of stimulus every now and again.
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