I got my first rejection letter today. I’ve been anxiously awaiting the self-addresed stamped enveloped that I sent to the Callaloo Creative Writing Workshop. I really wanted to get in. I knew that the slots were full…I spoke to another applicant. But still..I think I was holding my breath. Some how hoping that MY writing would be so moving, so impressive that they would make room for me. Hey, I told you that I think I’m special.
But alas, today, I saw my own handwriting on the envelope in the mailbox. It was a pretty thin letter. And acceptance letters rarely come in thin envelopes. Good news is that they did not reject me because they didn’t like my work. They liked my poetry. Its just that there were no more slots open. I’m now on the waiting list. And chances are, none of those who got accepted are going to back out anytime soon. Ah well.
They that you must face rejection to reach your dream. So this letter begins the pile. I’m sure that more will come. Next year. I’ll turn in my submission SO early that they won’t have a choice by to accept me.
Thinking about it now… I believe that rejection is why so many poets and new writers choose to self-publsh. Rather than exposing ourselves to critism or appealing to other reputable publications attempting to gain credibility though traditional, mainstream journals – we write, formatt, print, and market our work ourselves and then sell it to family and friends. Pushing it by word of mouth hoping and praying to gain some sense of validation.
I did it. And I sold a couple hundred copies too. The picture is from my “book release”.
And I KNOW that one of the reasons I did it was because I assumed that creative writing journals wouldn’t want my work because I don’t have an MFA or anything of the sort.
But that’s not true. So, I think that I’ll still submitt some work to the Callaloo, “A journal of African American Arts and Letters”. If they liked my work for the workshop, maybe they’d be willing to publish me. Right? Couldn’t hurt.
That is all.
Peace cool world.