As a writer, I've gotten used to rejection.
Being rejected stings, sure, but I'm sending out one or two stories a week, so the rejections pour in--sometimes via a form e-mail, which is gross, but sometimes the No is a Not quite, try us again, and I'm enough of a masochist that this feels kind of good.
Real life rejection still hurts a hell of a lot.
Man, does it.
That feeling of utter misery.
The helpless rage. The second guessing. The drink-right-from-the-bottle hopelessness.
It will pass, so I hear. Better days ahead.
I sure hope so.
There's a shadow constantly hovering at my shoulder. For all my gallivanting into the social whirl, nevermind the positive social media...
Ever wondered what it takes to get a piece of fiction published? I'm not talking New Yorker type of prose. That's a rarefied world ...
Check out my new video, a brief reading from a story published this past spring in Opossum.
Welp, after a half-year experiment in social media, BSP has returned to its blogger roots. I hated Faceborkland, tbh. Sure, it was easier t...