A Writer's Notebook, Day Eight-Hundred-And--Fifty

I received another rejection letter today, bringing the count to ninety-nine.  It is like teetering on an edge, though I know it will not change anything, and I will be told it has no meaning or significance.  It certainly does not feel insignificant.  I am able to see that it represents a sincere effort, but a sincere effort without any positive results is not easy to feel positive about.  As I have said, it scares me to be at this point, especially when I do not feel i have really learned anything from these rejections, other than to expect my work to be rejected by anyone who could publish it.  There is something strange in the duality of my experiences, with being encouraged and applauded by many in the writing and publishing world whom I respect, while also being unable to publish even  a single piece.  Often, I will send out work that I have been told is good and deserving of publication, only to find no one wants it.  And now, I am at the precipice of my hundredth straight rejection.  I want to be hopeful, as it would mean a great deal to break the pattern at this moment, but I have a great deal of experience that leads me to expect the opposite.

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