Off A Duck's Back

For the first time in a long time, I sent some of my stuff out to be published. It was a website that I'd heard about for ages, and perused every once in a while. A website that shall remain nameless, because I thought it was ugly and poorly organized and the writing was meh. Seems crazy that I would send my writing to a site I didn't think much of, but then, I figured they'd be pretty happy to get some decent stuff.

They were not, as it turns out.

I got the rejection email a couple days ago. Nothing fancy, no explanations, only - "We regret we cannot use your writing at this time."

Maybe it was because it was from a site I didn't much care about. Maybe it was because it felt like they'd scanned it, seen some small thing they didn't like, and copy-pasted me their rejection email.

At any rate, I didn't care. Flat out. No little pique of "What? Really? It's not good enough?" I saw the email, opened it, flicked over the contents and had it deleted within about 60 seconds.

Felt good. Like if I outright didn't give a damn about a site I didn't really like, I could probably handle rejection from a place I did care about with a modicum of composure.

Made me feel tough. And ready.