Okay, so remember way back when I made my resolutions? If not, here's part of my plan: Submit at least 2 short works per month to different literary journals/online journals. What you will read below are the results (so far) of this very humbling project:
I love that you are so sure of this Metazen. Thanks for the weird (and not entirely trustworthy) compliment!
Dear Erin Bedford,
I'm not sure if this is worse or better ... "So close--you just missed it by that much ..."
This is one of those times when I think maybe they just didn't like the piece that much, for whatever reason, and had to come up with something that sounded plausible because I submitted this as a flash fiction piece (under 1,000 words) which doesn't leave a whole lot of room for backstory.
Dear Erin Bedford,
Insert sad faces here.
But wait! I know this seems bad, but really, it's not. The major thing I've learned from publishing Fathom Lines on my own, is that some people don't like the way I write, or the stuff that I choose to write about (the agents and publishers that sent me rejections, for starters), but there are people out there that do. I just have to keep searching for them.
If you know me well, you know that me saying this, and sharing these rejection letters here, is a HUGE deal. Because I personalize almost everything. Not joking---I spent a lot of my life avoiding certain activities because I was afraid that I wouldn't be perfect at them and people wouldn't think I was a quality human being --even things that are supposed to be ridiculously fun when you're a kid. For instance: Musical chairs? Never. It's so obvious when you're not perfect. Bowling? Hated it. Mini-golf? Have you seen the way that windmill spins around? There's no way I'm getting a hole in one. Forget it.
But, I think I'm over it. I'm not going to lie, there will always be a pang when rejection comes my way, (and I will always have a little sarcasm to mutter under my breath at the rejector!) but I'm being a good duck now, letting it all run off my back. People won't be able to snub work that I keep hidden away in the closet, but they won't get a chance to love it either. And if Birdfeast magazine is less than impressed, that's fine. No one will think less of me for that, and if they do, then I can think less of them because they're probably not nice people. Now, I'm looking at it like this: rejection is built into what I've chosen to do with my life. It's part of my job to take it in stride.
So, who's up for some ten-pin?
Erin Bedford, writer.