Rejection, the sting of same.

Just had a (gracious) rejection of my new poetry MS entitled “The Music of Leaving,” from the Brooklyn Arts Press, and (as I sob) I am still on the fence re the following:

 

Is an outright generic rejection easier to swallow than one that laments the decision and prompts you to continue writing? Not sure… I am leaning toward the former but the nettles of this one are still deeply imbedded.

 

So wanted a home there.

 

Onwards, of course. 

 

But not quite yet...