Got another one tonight. They say after a while, you get used to them. It doesn’t bother you that something you spent months writing gets a simple, unexplained “No.” Everyone gets them. Famous writers have giant stacks of them.

But they are still nasty, slimy little things.

I’m used to them by now. But somehow, I can’t help letting it bother me. Just a little bit. I find myself second-guessing everything. Deriding all my old work. It gets to me more than I’d like to admit.

I think I put on the brave face too much, really. I say things don’t bother me until I really don’t feel them anymore. Until I honestly don’t care. I’d like to tell the truth this time. Just to see what it feels like.

So here it is.

I, the bookmarkedone blogger, have received a rejection.

Again.

And I’m tired of picking apart all the little details of what could possibly have gone wrong, of emulating all the writers that did well when the stories that really burn inside me, want to be written, are my own.

Nobody will ever stop me writing them. But that is tomorrow’s war.

Today is the rejection slip. So I’m not going to think about other stories for the future, I’m just going to admit I feel like a limp piece of rubbish that didn’t quite make it into the bin. Because it doesn’t matter how I feel. It doesn’t matter how good or bad my writing is or how many rejections I get, it doesn’t even matter if I get my sugar-spun fairy words in print.

I write.

I breathe, I live, I write.

Tomorrow. I write.