Good ol' rejection
I submitted my short story, "Potential Energy," to the Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction about a week ago. Imagine my surprise when I found a response from them in my mailbox this afternoon:
Dear Ms. Cunard:
Thank you for submitting "Potential Energy," but I'm going to pass on it. This tale didn't grab my interest, I'm afraid. Good luck to you with this one, and thanks again for sending it our way.
Sincerely,
John Joseph Adams
Assistant Editor
The only thing that bugs me about this is that the quick response time, combined with the wording of the response, suggests to me that my story might not even have been read -- that Mr. Adams might have glanced at the cover letter and made his judgment based upon its merits rather than the merits of the individual story.
But although it's frustrating to think this might have been the case, I'm not particularly upset. I mean, yeah, rejection stings and all that, but I'm beginning to realize that perhaps I've found the only kind of rejection in life that doesn't set me back or put me down. I used to think that the only reason I put up with Julie's rejections was because of the kind and thoughtful way she worded them. Now I know that can't have been it, because I sit here feeling no less determined to continue submitting my stories to different markets, despite the fact that Mr. Adams' rejection was not in any way couched in pleasant language or complements for the story itself. I'm starting to realize that, maybe, I don't mind having stories rejected.
Granted, it's probably a little early in the game to talk about this. After all, this is only rejection number three. I'm sure there will be many more where it came from before this story ever sees print. But still -- college rejections hurt like hell. Story rejections don't hurt at all. In the long run, how I write matters more to me than where I go to college. So why is it that it's okay for me to be rejected by the one group of people that I feel the greatest need to join?
Probably, I shouldn't ask questions. I should just be happy with my lot -- I certainly don't want these types of rejections to unhinge me. I just think that it's strange that they don't. Maybe college rejections hurt more because they're more final? I know that my short stories that might not get published by one person might still have a chance in another market, but once a college says no, it means no. Maybe that's why it's different. Maybe also because kids my age get into Stanford, but kids my age don't get published in the New Yorker. Maybe.
I guess I'll just wait and find out.
Dear Ms. Cunard:
Thank you for submitting "Potential Energy," but I'm going to pass on it. This tale didn't grab my interest, I'm afraid. Good luck to you with this one, and thanks again for sending it our way.
Sincerely,
John Joseph Adams
Assistant Editor
The only thing that bugs me about this is that the quick response time, combined with the wording of the response, suggests to me that my story might not even have been read -- that Mr. Adams might have glanced at the cover letter and made his judgment based upon its merits rather than the merits of the individual story.
But although it's frustrating to think this might have been the case, I'm not particularly upset. I mean, yeah, rejection stings and all that, but I'm beginning to realize that perhaps I've found the only kind of rejection in life that doesn't set me back or put me down. I used to think that the only reason I put up with Julie's rejections was because of the kind and thoughtful way she worded them. Now I know that can't have been it, because I sit here feeling no less determined to continue submitting my stories to different markets, despite the fact that Mr. Adams' rejection was not in any way couched in pleasant language or complements for the story itself. I'm starting to realize that, maybe, I don't mind having stories rejected.
Granted, it's probably a little early in the game to talk about this. After all, this is only rejection number three. I'm sure there will be many more where it came from before this story ever sees print. But still -- college rejections hurt like hell. Story rejections don't hurt at all. In the long run, how I write matters more to me than where I go to college. So why is it that it's okay for me to be rejected by the one group of people that I feel the greatest need to join?
Probably, I shouldn't ask questions. I should just be happy with my lot -- I certainly don't want these types of rejections to unhinge me. I just think that it's strange that they don't. Maybe college rejections hurt more because they're more final? I know that my short stories that might not get published by one person might still have a chance in another market, but once a college says no, it means no. Maybe that's why it's different. Maybe also because kids my age get into Stanford, but kids my age don't get published in the New Yorker. Maybe.
I guess I'll just wait and find out.