My week in summary: Submitted a flash fiction to an eZine. Got rejected.
Within the space of two days.
I'm not sure whether to be insulted or thankful...
I'm leaning toward the latter. Because, really, I'd rather be rejected immediately than tortured with weeks between the submission and the (more than likely) rejection. Apparently, I got it in just in time for the batch read. (Also, I must remember to recognize assistant/multiple editors in my salutations. Whoops. Bad writer etiquette, no biscuit.)
And here it is:
Thanks for letting us read your submission. I’m afraid we are going to pass this time. Unfortunately, we get too many submissions to offer personal feedback on each one. Best of luck placing it elsewhere.
As rejections go, it's...even keel, even for a form letter. I've had worse (form letters). More blunt. With no "bests of luck." (And I do appreciate those wishes for luck.)
Because that's really what this is all about, in the end. Finding the right market and Editor, with the right story picked out--from one of your gazillion files--and submitted at the right time.
Tell me there's not just a bit of need for the "luck of the draw" in that?
With a smidge of talent thrown in on the top, of course.
Oy vey.
I suspect every writer who attempts to be an author (yes, I do separate the two) has a bit of a masochistic streak inside.
Otherwise, I don't think we'd keep doing this to ourselves...
"...the nail in my wall would no longer support the weight of the rejection slips impaled upon it. I replaced the nail with a spike and kept on writing." - Stephen King, On Writing
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