So on the cusp of trying to finish TRH, I’ve gotten four short story rejections in the mail this past week. Yep, FOUR.
And so the mind goes wandering down the path of “why am I doing this? If I can’t even sell a short story, then what am I doing wasting my time with a novel?”
I write because I have to… blah blah blah creative outlet… blah blah blah…I believe in myself…blah blah blah.
Right. I know those are the answers I should be saying, but they don’t ring true to me on weeks like this.
And she says:
“I don’t have a problem with rejection…I have some inherent presumption that nothing in a writing rejection is personal against me …I can be no more upset over someone not liking my writing than I can be about someone not liking the same flavor ice cream as me. Tastes are individual. Maybe that editor just wasn’t in the mood for Chocolate Raspberry Truffle Swirl that day”
And I wish I could feel the same way…but I don’t. When an editor replies like this:
“Thanks for the submission, but I’m going to have to pass. Too much exposition, too soon. Would’ve worked better if you eased the idea of Robin Hood’s bow in, rather than explaining it away at the beginning.”
How do you not take that personally? How do you not start questioning yourself and your skills as a writer? Hmmm.
Anyway, it’s not like this really bothers me that much. It’s just on weeks when I get four rejections at a short interval.
I mean, I keep writing, don’t I?