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