Rejection

This week I have returned to my freshman year of high school. Or, at least, it feels that way. The mailbox, the FedEx delivery, the telephone, the email filter . . . all have served to remind me how painful rejection can be. Just like my freshman year in high school, I've been rejected for any number of reasons when I have suggested a writing date.

Of course, the first date I ever had as a freshman was with Becky--and any fool can see where that's taken me. I'm sure there are days when she wishes she could FedEx a response like I've been getting this week:

Dear Todd:

You ain't bad . . . but then, we have really high standards around here. That's why it's so painful for us to tell you that your writing stinks. In fact, you stink, too. What made you think we would ever, in a million years, want to work with someone like you? But hey, thanks for sending this in. Your material just served to remind us how blessed we are to be working with real talent.

The Editorial Team (and Your Wife)

See what I mean about rejection? I've been rejected this week by book publishers, magazines, journals, and web sites. Sort of like, in the 9th grade, when I was rejected by Sally, Mary, Alice and Bertha and ended up with Becky as a first date. Sometimes, you just have to settle in and accept your losses.

Still, I did receive one rejection that has kept me going. (There is always ONE, dear writer, just like in golf, that keeps you coming back!) It came in the form of a phone call:

"Todd, I don't know quite how to say this," SHE TOLD ME (I'm not lying here!). "I was sitting at home reading the work you'd sent me, and I told my husband, 'You know, he's just a great writer. Why doesn't anyone know about him?' I see a lot of writing, and most can't write. But you . . . easy on the eye."

Later in the day, I told Becky about my phone conversation. "Who was she, a hooker?" Becky said. "You didn't believe her, did you?"

"Well, I certainly want to," I said. "Maybe she sees something others don't see."

"No, she sees less, sweetie."

Which leads me, of course, to ask Becky the obvious question: Exactly why did she go out with me on that first date? Was she cutting her losses with me, too?