raybear | That was another place and another time

It's Monday morning, I'm groggy from a night's sleep aided by antihistamines, and the only thing in my e-mail box was a short story rejection letter. It's all part of the process, I know, but that doesn't mean it's the fun part. It's Monday morning, it's grey and drizzly and cold, and this is March, this is spring, those little green shoots in my yard need the rain to saturate them, it's all part of the process, I know, but that doesn't mean it's the fun part. I am making myself bacon for breakfast, to eat with eggs and coffee and orange juice, and I'm not sure if it is meant to be a reward or meant to be an inspiration or maybe both. Looking at my submissions spreadsheet, it might be about time for more letter of rejection to start arriving on my doorstep. Its still early, only been 5-6 weeks, and for one publication who rejected me in just under a month last time, maybe this is a good sign that I haven't heard from them in yet. I should be submitting more often, a continuous cycle, but I'm not really primarily a short story or essay writer so it is hard to keep that up.

It's Monday morning, and I have a dentist appointment in about an hour which isn't exactly the best way to start off this whole operation. But also, it's something to do.