A Line of Blowing Sand

With the early morning sunlight streaming through my windows, I sit on the floor in some absurd yoga position I’ve read about and chant lowly to my empty house, “Embrace rejection (breathe in)… Now, let it go (breathe out)… Embrace rejection (in)… Let it go (out)…”

You get the picture.

This transcendental cleansing lasts exactly 11 minutes. At which point my big toe heads for my little toe in an over-the-top foot cramp that defies the laws of physics and survivable pain. Once my incomprehensible screams have reverted to very clear, blindingly colorful curses I give spiritual peace up for dead and collapse on my couch to mope my brains out.

Well, that’s my morning. How is yours?

Yeah, so, I got a rejection. A big one. As in a “Dear Writer” form letter. While it’s hardly anything new (I mean, I’m a writer, hello?), but I had really wanted this one.

Armed to the teeth with a resume of over a dozen published novels in the romance genre and a kick-ass synopsis I had spent a couple of weeks polishing to brilliance (insert self-deprecating laugh here), I sent off one heck of a proposal… and what did I get back?

Diddly-squat.

Except, of course, for my nifty form letter and a catastrophic toe event.

So, I guess, that would technically not make it diddly-squat, but I’m pouting, ok? And diddly-squat is a fun word to say and I’m going to take whatever pleasure I can find out of this colossal failure of mine. So, diddly-squat it is…

And, yes, I did take my meds this morning, thank you very much. It’s not my fault if all my let’s-not-freak-out drugs were used up un-knotting my toes…


Seriously, though, rejection is a part of every writer’s life. It’s just not a very fun part.

So, why am I sharing this with you?

Perhaps it’s to show my sane side to you. Last post I showcased my insane half. This time it’s my sanity’s turn.

Sometimes even I am just an ordinary person with ordinary, diddly-squat problems.

The mentally ill are not always as far removed from normalcy as some people think. Sometimes all that separates us is a line of blowing sand.

Sincerely,
Cora Douglas Sands