And some really crappy news

So, Friday, I was living on the high of the good, exciting news I can't quite share yet cuz it's not official. And meanwhile, the whole time, there it was, sitting innocently in my mailbox, waiting for me.

The thing I've been dreading since February.

The envelope with my name on it in my own handwriting. The one holding the letter that says, you suck. never burn my eyes with your crap ever again.

Only it didn't say exactly that. It said I had a clean style. and engaging dialogue. But then it said I had a whole lotta not that good stuff, so thanks but no thanks. And the ubiquitous, I'd like to see more of your work.

And I'm left devastated.

I spent a summer writing those letters. Knowing that I was crushing someone's hopes with my words, trying to say as much as I could in a few lines, confident in my just graduated know-it-all-ness. And now, sitting here on the other side of the fence and it sucks. And I don't know what is meant by the few precious words that are there. I know the four levels of "rejection letter". The curt, form please don't send us crap again. the form, well, it didn't burn our eyes out, but it sucked and you have to improve a whole helluva lot before we want to look at anything else of yours. The it was meh, but it didn't suck and you have potential, so improve and we'll consider you and the not quite right, but fix these problems, and we'll definitely consider it.

So I made the third level. There was no form to my letter, but no revisions or offers to fix and reconsider either. Which, when you think about it, is pretty good for the first piece of work I sent out into the publishing world. But oh, it hurts. And I wanted to just give it all up and say, fuck it. I don't need to do this.

And yet today, my plan is to keep writing. Finish something else. Work on the areas that she said needed work. And keep sending stuff out.