miles to Rivendell: 221 ytd words written: 208,200
hey, I was right
Hey, I was right. There /was/ a rejection letter in yesterday’s mail (from St. Martin’s, on Heart of Stone). It’s just that the mail got there very late, so I didn’t find it until this morning when I went out to put some bills in the mail. Total form letter. Dear Sir/Madam. You know, if wanna-be authors sent Dear Sir/Madam letters to publishing houses, they’d get docked points for it. OTOH, wanna-be authors don’t have to deal with five thousand unsolicited submissions a year. Onward!
hah! I was right! er…
Hey, I was right. There /was/ a rejection letter in yesterday’s mail (from St. Martin’s, on Heart of Stone). It’s just that the mail got there very late, so I didn’t find it until this morning when I went out to put some bills in the mail. Total form letter. Dear Sir/Madam. You know, if wanna-be authors sent Dear Sir/Madam letters to publishing houses, they’d get docked points for it. OTOH, wanna-be authors don’t have to deal with five thousand unsolicited submissions a year. Onward!
writing
Finished the JUBILEE script. I still have to write beatsheets for the next 3, but then I should be able to send it out. Maybe tomorrow. More likely Thursday. Walked 3.5 miles. miles to Rivendell: 217.5 ytd wordcount: 207,300 ytd miles swum: 26.5 G’night.
where’s my rejection letter!
Several months ago, Sarah and I were discussing the bewildering behavior of writers who shook their fists at the skies and cried, “Where’s my rejection letter, dammit?!” I mean, why would somebody be demanding to know where their *rejection* letter was? Isn’t that putting the wrong sort of vibe out into the universe? I get it now. It’s not that they’re shaking their fists at the sky and hoping for a rejection letter. It’s that they’re desperate for a *response*. An *answer*. *Any* kind of answer is better than the…