There is no sugarcoated way to ease the drop in the stomach.
Everyone knows that, right?
Because everyone, at one point or another, has been rejected. By someone who was once a friend. By a boyfriend or a girlfriend.
Rejection knows no border.
Wherever we live, whatever language we speak, the aftermaths feel pretty much the same.
For writers, the rejection of a manuscript brings the exact same disappointment, sadness, and yes a little bit of anger and resentment.
I am like anyone else and I cannot pretend that a rejection letter or e-mail doesn’t stink, doesn’t suck, and doesn’t hurt.
It does and always will. Period.
Yesterday I received a short e-mail listing the titles of the three stories that were selected for a small French anthology.
It was a contest, really, and I had good hopes to be part of the selection.
My heart sunk and…
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