Wish Dodger Revisited
May. 13th, 2002 01:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rinueThere are two fully outlined journal entries in my notebook, one of which details a new understanding of my place in the world, and the other of which contains a theory of American society which is nothing short of brilliant. I am not writing either of them tonight. I have been awake for too long. I would slip and cut my hands.
Instead, I am going to complain about a specific rejection from a specific publisher. I realize that all writers receive rejections. I myself have been rejected many times in both my professional and my personal life; let us remember here that I am both an author and an actor, and rejection is the name of the game whether you're talented at it or not. I never take it too seriously.
Well, almost never.
And before you jump to any conclusions, this is not one of those "almost" exceptions.
I am frustrated because a large part of the reason I sent this story to this particular publisher is because they are known for returning rejected literary submissions with critiques. Mine, they returned blank after holding it for four months -- two more than the time by which they said they would return it. Furthermore, it is a remarkably short short story -- less than 500 words. Single spaced, it doesn't fill a page.
Effectively, they were unable to critique my story, even after leaving it sitting around for several months. This is precisely the same reaction I got from the few professors I revered enough to ask for their criticisms. Each kept it weeks. Months. Returned it with no editing marks except in one case a "this pronoun is unclear."
Each was obsessed, and completely unable to advise me. We'd sit in empty classrooms, them staring into my eyes, asking my opinions of Eastern philosophies, of the color grey, of the word "balance".
The story is brilliant because it is unlike anything else that has ever been written.
Publishers don't know what to do with it.
It is supremely, supremely agrivating to be effectively told "we know enough to know that this is even more phenomenal than we realize it is. We do not think our audience could understand it" by a well-regarded literary journal. It is maddening to be informed that "this is perfect and we cannot find a place for it."
I feel the same way I did sophomore year, given the same speech time and time again. "You're the most fascinating person I've ever met, which is why I've decided to go back to my ex-girlfriend instead of dating you."
It drove me to tears when I thought that the world was fair. Now I am simply exhausted. The story cannot be improved, only changed. It is worthy of publication -- of obsession -- but there is no venue for it. It seems I am forever creating artforms for which there is no place; I innovate beyond the point of application. Short stories, children's stories, poems, plays, performance pieces, "ingenius but unmarketable."
I just don't understand how I can be thought so visionary and so undesirable all at the same time.
Instead, I am going to complain about a specific rejection from a specific publisher. I realize that all writers receive rejections. I myself have been rejected many times in both my professional and my personal life; let us remember here that I am both an author and an actor, and rejection is the name of the game whether you're talented at it or not. I never take it too seriously.
Well, almost never.
And before you jump to any conclusions, this is not one of those "almost" exceptions.
I am frustrated because a large part of the reason I sent this story to this particular publisher is because they are known for returning rejected literary submissions with critiques. Mine, they returned blank after holding it for four months -- two more than the time by which they said they would return it. Furthermore, it is a remarkably short short story -- less than 500 words. Single spaced, it doesn't fill a page.
Effectively, they were unable to critique my story, even after leaving it sitting around for several months. This is precisely the same reaction I got from the few professors I revered enough to ask for their criticisms. Each kept it weeks. Months. Returned it with no editing marks except in one case a "this pronoun is unclear."
Each was obsessed, and completely unable to advise me. We'd sit in empty classrooms, them staring into my eyes, asking my opinions of Eastern philosophies, of the color grey, of the word "balance".
The story is brilliant because it is unlike anything else that has ever been written.
Publishers don't know what to do with it.
It is supremely, supremely agrivating to be effectively told "we know enough to know that this is even more phenomenal than we realize it is. We do not think our audience could understand it" by a well-regarded literary journal. It is maddening to be informed that "this is perfect and we cannot find a place for it."
I feel the same way I did sophomore year, given the same speech time and time again. "You're the most fascinating person I've ever met, which is why I've decided to go back to my ex-girlfriend instead of dating you."
It drove me to tears when I thought that the world was fair. Now I am simply exhausted. The story cannot be improved, only changed. It is worthy of publication -- of obsession -- but there is no venue for it. It seems I am forever creating artforms for which there is no place; I innovate beyond the point of application. Short stories, children's stories, poems, plays, performance pieces, "ingenius but unmarketable."
I just don't understand how I can be thought so visionary and so undesirable all at the same time.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2002-05-13 01:22 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2002-05-13 01:47 am (UTC)*SMOOSHTACKLEHUG!*
You know, you and Dee are the *only* recipients of tackle hugs from me.
Terribly special. *G*
Thanks again.
Get well.
Um.
Hanakuh. Or. Something.
Re:
Date: 2002-05-13 02:37 am (UTC)is there a scale on which I can gauge this adorableness admiration I'm receiving? Like a kind of geiger counter?
*bee-oo-bee-oo-bee-oo-BEE-oo-BEE-oo-BEE-OO-BEE-OO-BEE-OO*
"Hmmm... there's someone nearby that finds me EXTREMELY adorable."
I have terrible news though. I think I miscalculated my tax return. It says I owe *them* money. So, I'm saving my pennies from now on, in case things are screwed up... as texas is becoming more and more appetizing... in a not-so-I-want-to-eat-it kind of way.
Mmmm... fried dirt.
(no subject)
Date: 2002-05-13 06:53 am (UTC)point 2. undesirable is not a word that goes with you. i can think of many other words, most of them antonyms in one form or another.
point 3. i miss you both very much.
(no subject)
Date: 2002-05-13 08:05 pm (UTC)It is the burden of the visionary that she is often, which is to say always, unappreciated in her time.
As for 'undesirable', in a literary sense, that is one of the most staggering oxymorons I have ever read. In an emotional sense...well never mind.
-Chad