I sent in a humor piece, gosh about three months ago, Geologic Ages of Time enough for me to forget I did it. Which is really the best way to submit a manuscript, enter a contest, or do an audition – just forget about it and then if there’s a result, whoopee!
I got a rejection yesterday that “We’re sorry to say that your piece wasn’t right for us, despite its evident merit.” Which made me very, very happy at a time when I need some good news.
Now, the New Yorker is well known for its understatement in these things. So granting that the piece had “evident merit” is pretty damn good. It means that it got somewhere up the ladder there before it fell back down again. And that it was good, just… Not right for them, or not the right time, or someone didn’t like it, or who knows.
But. After the financial failure of Colin, I needed a tangible reminder from the outside world that I’m good at writing. That I’m…
That I’m close. To something. Being in the top 10% of the Reddit Screenwriting competition, with my first screenplay. Getting recognized for “evident merit” by the New Fucking Yorker. That something’s got to give, somewhere… That even though Colin was wonderful, and failed anyway, that it’s not me. Shit just happens sometimes.
Man, I needed that.