Rejection Letter

So I received the dreaded rejection letter, which included no feedback from the editing board. I know right? Annoying.

My Dad seemed pretty concerned that I would forever be discouraged from writing, and so he had Mom call me. Last time he did that was when he thought I was upset over a breakup. I told him I wasn’t angry at least three times before my Mom called me the next day to ask about the rejection.

“I’m not mad. A little disappointed, but otherwise I don’t care. At least I tried.” I told her, while standing in the basement of the library.

“Good. You don’t wanna let things like that get to you.”

And that was that.

I understand why my Dad worries about me, but when it comes to the things that I love there is nothing that can discourage me enough to stop. I couldn’t possibly stop…my work is an extension of who I am. I’m a writer. I write.

There are people who get hundreds of rejections on a single work before it gets published. It isn’t the end of the world.

“Don’t let your dreams be dreams.”  — Shia LaBeouf.

–R.


Yes, I used to watch shows about Pharaoh’s playing children’s card games….

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We have Lingered….

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea

By sea-girls wreathed with sea weed red and brown

Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

— T.S. Eliot, Prufrock: The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.


I’d read this poem earlier this week and thought that the end was absolutely beautiful. I’m not entirely sure why I’m so drawn to it, that’s a mystery to me, but I needed to share it because it’s just so pretty…I mean beside from the point that it mentions drowning (though this is a metaphorical drowning, not the blub, blub guzzling kind).