The email came in at 9:48 EST on March 3rd, 2019. The anthology series I had submitted a short story to sent me a very polite ‘Thanks but no thanks’ missive. He did remind me that they are taking submissions until April 15th and I’m welcome to send in another. I don’t want to read too much into that but a little tiny voice is whispering to me that my story couldn’t have been completely terrible or he wouldn’t have put that in. Then again, it could also just be a form letter too.
It was bound to happen and I certainly expected it. I’m actually surprised that I’m not that surprised. Does that make any sense at all?
Maybe it will hit me later, but then again, maybe not. It’s not that I don’t feel anything but I’m not really upset either. Somehow it seems like a rite of passage. After all, I have come across writers that claim that they have had a thousand rejections without one single publication. While I’m not sure of the veracity of that number, it encourages me to keep trying.
To be honest, I actually felt as if my first was too easy. It was less than a week from hitting send to my story being published. Where were my trials? Where was the blood, sweat and tears a writer is supposed to shed?
In fact, this rejection makes me feel more like a real writer than being published did.
I’m weird, I know, you don’t have to tell me.