On Relishing Rejection

Have I ever mentioned that I relish rejection? I do. Rejection emails and, back in the day, letters are like little certificates of bravery to me. There was a call for submissions or other opportunity, I mustered up some courage and put myself out there, and someone considered my effort and responded with a, “no, thank you.” Lately, I have been disappointed in the lack of good rejections. We seem to have gotten to a place where ghosting is accepted as some de facto rejection and I feel cheated. For me, receiving an actual rejection is delightful. I see a documented rejection as a beautiful, second place ribbon that celebrates my willingness and courage to submit. Back when they were letters, I would save them. In my mind, the space above a polite, better still, personalized rejection is very narrow. There is, in fact, only one thing nicer than a rejection, you guessed it – an acceptance. (I will spare you the story of recently having my work accepted only to have the editor change her mind a few days before publication, boo hiss.)

So, in December when I submitted my personal essay to the online magazine, Better After 50, I expected silence. I would subsequently have to write and retract so that I might submit it elsewhere. Nevertheless, I hit the form’s final submit button and jumped in the shower. I was absolutely thrilled when a response popped up on my phone just after I got out of the shower saying not only had it been received and read, but it would indeed be published. Because of the traumatic incident described at the end of the previous paragraph, I kinda didn’t believe that the essay would actually be published. By the time I mustered the nerve to look, it had been up for 2 weeks and over 600 people had read it. Yay!

In case you haven’t seen my essay, “The Intimacy of Sex, Marriage and Death Preparation,” as published by Better After 50 it can be accessed by clicking here.