Sometimes I wonder why we put ourselves through it all. Writers have to tolerate rejection, develop a thick skin. Even so, we continue in the pursuit of who knows what success? We’d do it even if no success came of it, because we have to. It’s an obsession.
During February I submitted one short article, one full-length article, and several letters. Results so far – short article, no reply as yet, larger article rejected and now looking elsewhere for a home for it, and one letter published in a daily newspaper. This month’s article not quite ready to go, but nearly there. Earlier submissions have either still not had a reply, or been rejected. Carry on regardless. It’s the only thing to do.
Sometimes surprising results arrive unbidded. This morning I had a phone call from an editor who said they’d published a letter of mine in November last. I remember the letter, but didn’t buy that particular edition of the magazine, although I tried to check most in newsagents’ shops. Must have just missed that one, so had no idea that it had been published. Anyway, she’s had a reply to my letter from another reader who wants to get in touch to help me with a gardening problem, the subject of my letter. Now awaiting correspondence from the lady. Interesting how we make contacts through our interests.