List of literary journals submitted to this month:
Crab Orchard Review Literary Awards–a nonfiction essay
Copper Nickel: Special Issue Women Writing The West–a nonfiction essay
Still waiting to hear from:
Memoir (and) for an essay submission
Seal Press for a book proposal submission
Levine Greenberg who I solicited looking for representation for a memoir.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
The Rejection Box
One or more brilliant souls came up with the idea of making a special place to file the inevitable rejection letters that both lead and follow acceptance letters: a "Rejection Box."
I always liked the idea–in theory.
I liked the idea of having a very specific place to put the letters that validate my existence as a real writer. I originally envisioned an old shoe box, covered in some sort of clever, but literary, decoupage. In my mind, some days it looked like a papier mâché masterpiece, others it was covered in dragonfly stickers (to denote creativity) or inspiring pictures of women writers. After many unsuccessful and frustrating trips to the craft store, I was about to give up. Then I discovered a box of chocolates leftover from New Years Eve.
We had hosted a party this year to ring/drink/burn out 2007. Lots of booze and chocolate came in the door. One box in particular of tiny chocolate morsels was unique. It opened from the top, but the lid was attached in a way that really can only be truly understood if you could see it for yourself. I don't have a camera handy, so the picture will have to wait. Suffice to say that the top is in two pieces, each attached to opposite ends of the box and opened in the middle.
I found a handful of rejection letters and carefully cut out only the important words, leaving the empty places to be put into the recycling bid. If the form letter was rather small, I cut off the corners, removing the sharpest parts of the paper. Even though I believed in the idea of a rejection box, it reality it seemed a little silly–until I put the first letter in. I actually felt a sense of relief. Nice.
One of the reasons for this blog is to share submission triumphs and disappointments. So here is where I will also share additions to the Rejection Box.
Stay Tuned
I always liked the idea–in theory.
I liked the idea of having a very specific place to put the letters that validate my existence as a real writer. I originally envisioned an old shoe box, covered in some sort of clever, but literary, decoupage. In my mind, some days it looked like a papier mâché masterpiece, others it was covered in dragonfly stickers (to denote creativity) or inspiring pictures of women writers. After many unsuccessful and frustrating trips to the craft store, I was about to give up. Then I discovered a box of chocolates leftover from New Years Eve.
We had hosted a party this year to ring/drink/burn out 2007. Lots of booze and chocolate came in the door. One box in particular of tiny chocolate morsels was unique. It opened from the top, but the lid was attached in a way that really can only be truly understood if you could see it for yourself. I don't have a camera handy, so the picture will have to wait. Suffice to say that the top is in two pieces, each attached to opposite ends of the box and opened in the middle.
I found a handful of rejection letters and carefully cut out only the important words, leaving the empty places to be put into the recycling bid. If the form letter was rather small, I cut off the corners, removing the sharpest parts of the paper. Even though I believed in the idea of a rejection box, it reality it seemed a little silly–until I put the first letter in. I actually felt a sense of relief. Nice.
One of the reasons for this blog is to share submission triumphs and disappointments. So here is where I will also share additions to the Rejection Box.
Stay Tuned
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