So what do I do? Listen to ‘Land Down Under,’ that’s what. Why that silly bloody song never fails to give me a lift, I really don’t know. The reggae rhythm, probably.
I hear it’s hot in Sydney.
Wednesday, 9 February 2011
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It is still Tuesday, Feb. 8th here, so i am assuming that this incident happened on the night of the 8th there. Emily's birthday. Did you know that?
Sorry... meant for your previous post.
It's probably no reflection on your writing, Jeff, the computer age seems to have spawned countless novelists from every crevice of the universe. We're all writers now :) Difficult not to be disheartened though. I hear you.
Andrea: According to my information, Emily's birthday was 30th July. We are both talking of Emily Bronte, aren't we? Should have checked Google. Will do.
Della: I know. X million people all thinking we've written the next Jane Eyre. Actually, I'm not that downcast about it. It's possible I could get it published by the small press, but my impressions of most small press novel publishers don't fill me with enthusiasm. Interestingly, nobody has actually read any of this novel yet. It's the synopsis they're rejecting.
You are right, her birthday is July 30th. I read the Bronte Blog and yesterday it said that it was her birthday... hmmm... maybe i misread.
And if its any consolation, i think you are an amazing writer! I very much enjoy reading your blog here and all your short stories!
I did misread; February 8th is the birthday of Elizabeth Bronte.
Rejection is rejection is rejection, I know rhetorical but it still sucks. You put a "child" of yours out there and it wasn't accepted. It doesn't mean it will never be published, but I'd be feeling disappointed and frustrated. And now that silly song "Land Down Under" is going through my head. We all need songs to make us laugh when we want to do anything but...
Thank you, Andrea, good of you to say so. I think I'd prefer 'competent,' though.
Actually, Wendy, I don't think of the novel as a 'child.' I think of it as the diary of a journey a goddess took me on. Strange as it might sound, I'm actually more concerned about her feelings in the matter. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me at all if the rejecting publishers have had a few problems, probably conected with water. I did when I offended her once.
This sounds a bit morbid, but maybe you'll be one of those people whose books only get acknowleged when they die. Or a few decades after they die.
Blimey, Carms! That was what happened to Kafka. Not quite in the same league, but I'd be quite happy with that. I've long believed that it isn't who a writer is that matters, but what they say.
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