Cobweboscopy...

I got a piece of mail the other day which drove away a good percentage of my depression spiders. It was my first professional rejection letter! Now those of you who know me may think I have ample experience with rejection already, but this was entirely different. It marked a transition, a really important milestone in my glorious destiny. No longer am I just a neophyte writer with delusional dreams of achieving adequacy. Now I join the ranks of the Rejected, and nothing feels the same. Now its just a matter of hand-cramping labor, chutzpah, and ridiculous amounts of postage before the next step into the Published (and maybe Paid) category.

My submitted story was the Mighty Wingman story.
Here is the rejection letter.

In terms of the rest of life, I restarted classes on Saturday. My dire financial picture only allowed me to take three classes this semester, but so far they look like really good ones. I'm pretty excited about Photography, even if it has nothing to do with my future plans, and my advanced programming classes are starting at a nice brisk pace that will hopefully keep my interest. I got a job slinging insurance that starts on the 16th that pays decently, so my money woes may go the way of the dodo soon.

All in all, things are looking peachy(ish). Isn't this when the rain of fire is supposed to hit me?

Jason

P.S. Stages of writing (in my mind at least): Unwriting --> Writing --> Rejected --> Published/Paid --> Career --> Famous --> Household Name --> Puissant --> God-like.
See, just a logical progression! }:)