All That’s Waiting in the Wings
Human resiliency and laminated rejection letters
I got one of those writer emails this week — the kind where your chest simultaneously clenches, leaps, and plummets because your brain recognizes what the inbox preview text means before you even open the message.
We want to thank you for sharing…
But no thank you.
And, dammit, I really wanted that one / thought I had at least a chance at making the long list.
Phone in hand, sitting behind the wheel and about to reverse down my driveway, I shoved my phone to the bottom of my purse and let that hollowed-out oooph ride shotgun. I had places to go, even knowing that I’d have a sour stomach and a matching attitude while I went.
Possibly, I’ve outgrown pouting.
Am I on to the phase where I print every rejection and pin them to a corkboard over my desk? Eh. More likely, I’ll laminate it and file a hardcopy. Blame the millennial/teacher in me. I love a three-ring binder.
I got bad news, and it sucked. Four days later, and it still tastes like bile and sadness. I’m still living the emotional adjectives that come with being rejected. Washed-up. Scattered. Amateur. Stunted. Yeah. All of those.
