I Take My Coffee With Cream, Sugar, and A Rejection Slip On The Side

​I eat rejection slips for breakfast. I take my coffee with cream, sugar, and a rejection slip on the side. I like a good rejection letter; it starts the day off just right. Nom nom nom.

Because a day is not whole until I’ve dealt with the emotion entangled with a rejection slip these days. I like it. She rubs her belly. Maybe it fuels me. Maybe it reminds me that I'm at least trying something. Maybe it makes me want to eat pumpkin scones. Either way, that’s how it is.

One day I will be the cranky old lady in the corner. That is because my grandmother was the cranky old lady in the corner. I love her, I think she is phenomenal and funny and loving and thoughtful. She always spoke her opinion, maintained her home and her car so that they were immaculate, and she made the world’s best fudge. She left too soon. I’d love to get to know her as an adult because she had some amazing stories to tell and some ideas that would really take off. One example is a themed restaurant. We are talking Magic Time Machine or Rainforest Cafe, here, folks. But more awesomer because each table had a theme. I will be that old lady because I try to stay positive but I just find myself being a bit sarcastic and sardonic. I crack jokes that have a dark side to them. I think maybe it is time to give up on staying positive all the time and just appreciate what I got, and be as positive as I can in my own special way. 

After all, even the classiest of ladies can throw down a verbal spar with a wink and a smile on her face.

Hence, so forth, and so on, one more thing I have learned is that trying to achieve more than one goal at a time is a ridiculous feat to try to accomplish and the achiever will probably end up depressed, tired, and eating a lot of pumpkin scones. That’s okay, that’s okay, tomorrow is another day where we will probably not eat pumpkin scones. Because the tub will be empty. 

What I find humorous is how goals change. To set out upon a journey expecting to find one harbor but instead divert to the open plains beyond the murky woods...well...that very often is how we roam, isn't it? 

But I’m that cranky old lady in the corner, so I’m doing my own thing.
 
I have so many words in me, so many stories, so many, so much. I want to find an agent who needs me, because I need her. We will get each other places. We will travel through time and space, and change the world, one sentence at a time. Writing the best letter to draw her attention, well, that, my friends, is the challenge. Or, part of the challenge. I don’t know how much patience or wherewithal I need to have, and that is another rushing fullback, swinging his barbaric arms at ya. I think that fullbacks rush. Right? I should fact check that. I know baseball pretty well, but nobody tackles anybody in baseball. That would be something to think about, though.

Another thing I have realized today as I received another “Thanks, but no thanks,” in my email, is that
1)      It gets a little easier each time. Not a whole lot, but it gets less personal. Now the game is about wording, catch phrases, and finding the best way to make my query fresh, optimistic, and compelling. It’s about the word game, the wordsmithery, and less about me puttering on my computer. It’s not me failing, it is me finding out what sounds boring and what knocks socks off. And obviously I need to keep puttering.
2)      The music keeps playing. The sun continues shining. The kids still need to be picked up from school. There are still thank you notes to write, dinners to cook, pumpkin scones to be scarfed, and the passive voice to be conquered. So place that rejection in its own little folder, take a note, and take a number. You are waiting in line and the line moves slowly.

“You can do this.” ~ Me

Don’t worry doing something that wastes your time. Enjoy what you are doing, do your best, and the glitter you radiate will change lives.

Advice I have? Appreciate the people who appreciate good words. There are so many words out there – on memes, misspelled on tweets, and fumbling around Tumblr. So when a great concoction of magic and mystery come knocking on your door, be willing to celebrate in honor with a couple of pennies and a slice of your time. Maybe that magician struggles to see the sparkle.

And if you’re that agent looking for glitter, or a reader needing some zest, I have a lot of it. As Abba said it best, take a chance on me.  I’m the first in line. So here is a little pittance for the day, a little illusion and compulsory dessert. Thanks for checking in. Let’s meet here tomorrow. I’ll save you a pumpkin scone.

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