Today’s mail brought the thing writers dread most — an envelope where the recipient’s address and the return address are the same. For the uninitiated, that’s an SASE, aka a self-addressed, stamped envelope. When you get one, it contains a response from an editor about a story you’ve submitted for publication. Sometimes it’s an acceptance. And sometimes it’s… not.
Today’s was not.
Which can only mean one thing — origami pigeon!
Okay, it could have meant origami swan, but I’m still having trouble with the beaks on those. And I think I’ve done enough origami sealife for a while. So pigeon it is.
I’ll admit I had a hard time shaking this rejection. Even after I folded the letter into origami, I couldn’t put it out of my mind — and not the part where the editor said it was well written, either. Some days rejections hit you harder than others. But it’s part of the job, and I figure I can either sit here and wallow in self-pity, or I can post this latest entry in my rejectigami collection and get back to work.
So back to work it is. Because when it comes down to it, there’s no job I’d rather have. And if I don’t write the stories in my head, no one else will.

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What was it Neil Gaiman said about how he deals with rejections? He sends the story out again with an “oh yeah, reject THIS!” attitude.
Actually, what Neil said was, “The best reaction to a rejection slip is a sort of wild-eyed madness, an evil grin, and sitting yourself in front of the keyboard muttering ‘Okay, you bastards. Try rejecting this!’ and then writing something so unbelievably brilliant that all other writers will disembowel themselves with their pens upon reading it, because there’s nothing left to write.”
(From this post: http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2004/02/on-writing.asp )
Which I did remind myself of all day yesterday after that rejection letter arrived. It eventually drowned out the voice in the back of my head that kept asking, “Am I wasting my time?”
I knew a writer who wallpapered her entire bathroom including the ceiling with rejection letters she received. I think that’s the perfect solution.
I thought about doing something similar, Doug, but I didn’t think my landlady would appreciate the redecorating.