One of my stories concerns two people who get caught in a
repetitive dream reality that’s becoming dangerous. Like most of my stories
(and pretty much everybody else’s) it’s had its share of rejections.
One editor admitted he didn’t understand it; he said it was
too far out. If you’ll excuse the vernacular, he went so far as to call it ‘fuck
brain stuff.’ It was rejected again this morning, but this time the reason given
was marginally different. This time I was told ‘We want stories that push the
envelope. This is too clichéd.’Enough said, eh?
Fortunately, rejections don’t bother me a bit. I have no
reason to feel insecure about my writing and I know that the extent to which
creative endeavour can be the subject of definitive opinion is greatly limited.
And that’s the point: opinions are subjective.
Those who need to make a living from their endeavours might
feel compelled to compromise. That’s their choice; it’s a matter of how they
want to walk their personal road. The rest of us should surely accept that creativity
is essentially personal, and the opinions of others relatively unimportant.
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