The Wide World of Rejection Letters

After a scant 8 days away I have a response from the editor of the Federation short:

The writing is good, but the story didn't keep his interest. Good luck placing it elsewhere....

On one hand, I admit I agree. I have trouble squeezing voice into short stories. They always sound a little flat to me because 5,000 words is barely enough time to introduce a character let alone several, plus the plot, plus the climax, plus wrap it all up with a satisfying ending. At heart, I'm a novel writer, short stories always leave me with the feeling that I'm gasping for air. I feel claustrophobic writing them. But it's good excercise.

So, yes, the story was flat. Not pancake flat, but flat enough that I can see why someone wasn't riveted by it.

On the other hand, now that I have a rejection in hand, I have to decide if Seventy is something I drop on the floor to feed to the monsters under the bed. Or if I should work on giving it a bit more jazz and sending it to other venues. Or sending it as is to other venues.

I put a lot of work into that short story. Most of December was spent editing, culling, trimming, and tightening. But I have other projects going and I don't know that I want to drop everything just to worry about a short story. No matter how much effort I put into it. I want to drop it like a bad boyfriend and move on.

Which leads me to a minor confession, rejection stings. Even expecting rejection because the chances of my first fiction publication being in an anthology with Elizabeth Bear and Orson Scott Card is so astronomically impossible as to be laughable. Even knowing that, there was that little grain of hope.... maybe, maybe I'm good enough, maybe the editor is just like me, maybe this will really catch someone's eye.

Submitting is like a first date, you do everything to look perfect, and then you just... hope.

And rejection feels like the date walked out in the middle of dinner to chase the blonde bimbo with implants and glazed eyes. I feel like I'm stabbing my fork at the plate, watching him walk away, and wondering if I ought to stab the competition, or the boy. And know that neither option is civilized.

Plain and simple, rejection hurts. Even when you expect it.

Writers have to live on hope. No book would ever be written if the writer didn't hope they could. No query letter would ever go out if an author didn't hope they might find that perfect place for their story. No publisher would run a printing press if they didn't hope someone would buy. Publishing isn't a business of sure things. Certain aspects of the job are very intangible. But, I hope it's worth it in the end.