then again, it could just be me

[kaigou]

There are times I feel almost relieved to get a rejection.

I have my stages: first, nerves at sending off the submission (during which I check the draft, if s-sub, or sent-email, if e-sub), akin to the way I find myself checking a room I've painted, just to make sure the paint's really there and that I didn't just hallucinate/dream finishing all four walls.

Second stage, I spend time roughly proportionate to about a quarter of the expected time before response, in which I'm off in lalaland about getting an excited call or email or cheery congratulations, often with happy visuals of gushing praise, because of course, I am Teh Awesome and now someone recognizes that.

Third stage begins a week or so later, when I don't wise up... so much as get bored with the ultimate-perfect scenario. It's not because I'm doubting me or the story; I just can't keep my energy at that daydreaming pitch for very long.

That third stage is the one where, more often than not, I reread. For some reason, knowing someone else is also doing the same, it's like I can borrow this unknown person's eyes, and finally see it more clearly. Not all the way, true, but more than I could before I subbed it. This is the stage where I find myself fiddling with the story as I reread, from tweaking a single sentence up to making significant changes.

Maybe it's an improvement, maybe not, but it feels like it is, and it tells me I still have a great deal to learn, I think. That is, I see a successful skill acquisition to mean that I can peg the flaws before I declare the story 'ready'; a storytelling skill not yet mastered means I don't see the flaws until I have distance (or someone else points them out).

That leads into the fourth stage: even without marking the calendar, I get a sense it's nearing the expected turn-around date. And the more I've tweaked on the third stage, the more I want to get it over with. I contemplate writing to the submittee a polite, "thank you for your time, but please toss this and withdraw me from consideration; I jumped the gun and now I realize it wasn't ready."

So the rejection? A relief, because I really don't know how it'd look to send such a note. It's also a confirmation that my assessment that the story wasn't ready... was right, and that's a good thing to take away from rejection.

Or so it seems to me.

Comments

[l-clausewitz.livejournal.com]

Can't help but agree. A response, even if it's a rejection, always lightens my mood as far as it concerns a specific story. ;)