Rejection #2

Odd timing, this notice. It's the night before the reading (and I'm already having a bit of writer's crisis--wondering, truly, if i'm not something of a hack) and I found in my mailbox, once I'd come home from a meal out with a pal, this self-addressed envelope. It could only mean one thing. I briefly scanned the slip of paper that had been added to the pack of my sad little poems. It seems that they were "not right" for the publication.

Why is rejection always codified? It's just like being dumped(or eliminated as a possibility before the guy even really knows you). "It's not you, it's me..." "this is a bad time for me right now..." are replaced with "interesting, but not quite what we're looking for," and "sadly, your poems aren't right..."

I don't mean to be a baby about it. I know a writer has to earn her stripes by collecting any number of these little ego-crushing, existentialist crisis-inducing notes, but gah!

How am I supposed to stand up and read my work with a straight face the day after this latest disappointment?

Talked to my mom tonight. Tried to prepare her for one of the poems I knew she'd find shocking. Good thing I laid the groundwork. She nearly screamed into the phone when I read her the one little controversial line.

"It's a metaphor, Mommy."
"I don't care what it is, I did not raise you to use that word..."
"Well, it's art..."
"Art?!"
"Yes...."
"Lord, Have mercy."

Yes, God, please do.