A writer, on rejection ....

"...And if you do get discouraged or tired, give those hopes and dreams to someone else for a little while, get some rest, then take 'em back and carry on."  ~ Arlo Guthrie

"Success is going from failure to failure without losing enthusiasm." ~ Winston Churchill

"Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving." ~ Albert Einstein

"I'm an idealist. I don't know where I'm going, but I'm on my way." ~ Carl Sandburg

"If you want to be a writer, you have to write every day ... you don't go to a well once but daily."
         ~ Walter Mosley

Following (unpaid) passion

"Little White Pill," my newest short story submission to Glimmer Train, was rejected today. I had great hope hanging on that piece: It'd been in the queue a long time, an "in-process" submission still in process, up to the last minute, an entry in the lit journal's Short Story Award for New Writers "contest." Winners will be announced tomorrow. And, now, that hope, burst like a sad balloon.
"Assistance," rejected. "F & M," rejected--both Glimmer Train submissions last spring. "She Should Have Known Better," a submission to Ploughshares, rejected June 9, 2013.
"All That Jazz," rejected  by The Missouri Review on March 4, 2013.
Why I continue to do this to myself is a pitiful mystery.
If it weren't for my current (unfruitful) job search, these rejections wouldn't sting as much.
And yet ... I persevere. I write because I cannot NOT write.
Look at me now, feeling all shitty and a tad bit despondent, and still I turn to this blog.
Thank you, Mom Sequitur, for your steady companionship.

Rejection: The New Yorker (not as bad as I thought)

March 6: I sent "F & M," a short story I'd written at MacDowell, to The New Yorker. I knew it was a long and ambitious shot. Wasn't holding my breath for a bite, although I did entertain several fantasies, on days the TNY landed in my mailbox (I'm a subscriber), that before my August birthday I would see "F & M" in print.
Thursday: A rejection email came. (We regret that we are unable to use the enclosed material. Thank you for giving us the opportunity to consider it. Sincerely, The Editors)
Friday: I spent the day glued to CNN watching the Boston Marathon bombing manhunt. Forgot about my New Yorker rejection.
Today: While Suspect No. 2 is hospitalized and the city of Boston returns to the streets (and beats the Kansas City Royals out at Fenway), I slogged up to my writing room, where I sit now, at my desk, processing my rejection. Here's what I feel, truthfully: Big Effing Deal. Three people died watching a race on a bright sunny Monday, other spectators lost limbs and loved ones. People in West, Texas, died when a fertilizer plant exploded. Hundreds injured. Homes and lives destroyed.
***
It would be inhumane and pitiful, really, to mourn the loss of a story that won't see print in a magazine that has far more important pieces to publish these days.