Writers smell, taste, see, touch and pee on rejection.
On a daily basis it eats away at their kishkas.
It clogs their pores, infiltrates their nostrils, burns tears in their cheeks, acidifies their stomachs and bloats their bladders.
But you ask,”Why do they keep sending out their submissions? Do they crave love so much? Or is it just their thirst for recognition, or their quest for immortality?”
“Perhaps because these word-masochists find sadistic pleasure in short, snappy, editorial emails that slash and slap their flesh,” I reply.
“Although your poem does not quite meet our immediate needs, we appreciate the opportunity to consider your fine work . We do, however, encourage you to keep us in mind in the future.”
Did you find it?
That kind word, that loving word, that word that brings hope to the author’s heart,
There it is—“fine” work.
A speck of dust cascading down the river of rejection.
Providing enough nourishment to write another day and enough moxie to pee on rejection.
Please share this tale with you writer, actor, artist friends. They are in need of the love.
