I got a rejection on one of my children’s stories today. Sadness. Gloom. Only not really.
A few years back, I definitely would’ve been upset at such a setback. Woe is me, I’m no good, I’ll never sell anything. Etc. But somewhere along the way, as life got busier, I stopped having patience for that sort of thing. Got rejected? OK. Try again. And again and again. I have precious little time for writing as it is — why would I waste that time on wallowing?
So, a rejection. And I’ll pick the next possibility and try again. Eventually it’ll click. And I’m relieved that I can take that attitude. Maturity? Artistic growth? Sleep deprivation? Whichever. It works. So I’ll see what tomorrow brings.
But listen, an occasional wallow is fine, right? I like to curl up on the couch and make fun of the bad commercials on TV. What do you do?