I was so sure this time.
I daydreamed about my upcoming fame.
I had a great big smile on my face for days on end.
But, nothing came. It was one day past the contest announcement day.
On the fourth day, Twitter exploded, my new contest friends twittering that the winners had been announced.
Before I even saw the names I knew it wasn't me because I hadn't been contacted.
It's painful but survivable. I'm not going to fold on one contest.
They keep saying even if you don't get picked for the top three, watch your email. Some of the contest editors may decide to publish anyway.
So, I went to check. I opened my email with a sense of anticipation instead of trepidation. And there it was. An email from the contest.
A rejection email.
The thanks but no thanks email.
It just shouldn't bother me that much. It just shouldn't.
I'm stunned. I'm exposed. Hollowed out. Moments from losing my cool.
And I know all the right things to do and say. I've heard them. I've said them.
It's just one publisher.
Don't give up.
Keep pushing forward.
One publisher's rejection is another publisher's acceptance.
[insert famous author's name here] was rejected X number of times before they were picked up.
Grow thicker skin.
Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.
This *&^%$#@ sucks.
I thought it was my turn.
But, its not.
It's painful to go on Twitter and see all the other participants getting picked up or having their full manuscripts requested. I'm happy for them. I try to send positive thoughts their way.
I've kept it to myself for days but I just need to talk it out. That's what this blog has always been about for me.
A place I don't need permission to write what I want or how I want to write it.
Now, don't worry. I'm just a bit melodramatic right now. It'll pass. I need to get back to pissed off. Back to my normal even keel of fuck'em if they can't take a joke self.
Meanwhile, since in IRL I don't smoke any more and rarely drink, cause I have poor self-control, who wants to get virtually drunk and light up with me?