I have to admit, I am more than a little stoked about this.

I just received, via email, my ninth rejection letter. It was by far the best I’ve yet received. I got a personal one the other day (my eighth rejection)–hold on, let me dig it out–that read thusly:

[...] There is some good sensory imagery here, but [...] it ultimately failed to engage me.

That one wasn’t exactly the most inspiring rejection, but then again, they took the time to tell me why they rejected it. For the sake of optimism and an understanding that each individual’s opinion is exclusive to them alone, I have omitted the specifics from the above. Here is the rejection I received today, from another publication in regards to the same manuscript:

A well written piece and publishable. I don’t really have anything else to add except that the writer’s negative view of our future is more likely to come true than my wishful hopes for it.

Okay–no, they didn’t buy the thing. So why should I listen to them? Why trust that it’s worthy of publication? Well, dammit, why trust the folks who deemed it cliche and “well-worn”? The point is, they saw something good about it. Maybe it was the sensory imagery–maybe it was that “well-worn device” that they found so appealing. Not only that, but this goes to show just how subjective an editor’s opinion really is. You can imagine, of course, I grant one of the above comments more credibility than the other, but I represent a definite bias.

This has certainly granted me a renewed sense of writerly vitality and the confidence (something that comes and goes, from one week to the next in furious storms, and vanishes as swiftly as it came) to take my presumed-to-be-grand ideas and outline, notes, et cetera, and write the next damn thing that shall be sent away to either be granted refuge amongst the realm of readership, or cast out inexplicably to weather the harsh climate of the barren planet Rejection.

Really, though, who could ask for a better hobby?