They Like Me. They Really Like Me.
One can hardly blame Sally Field for her display of pure, naked neediness all those years ago. That little speech is nothing—I mean nothing—compared to the total conniption fit of gratitude and delight that goes on inside my head for achievements far inferior to winning an Oscar. If I were to give an Oscar acceptance speech, it might look a little something like this:
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. You validate me as a human. You really validate me as a human and finally justify my existence. I’m not worthless. Hold me.
It’s not pretty, I realize. Especially when you imagine the sobbing and maniacal clapping of hands that would accompany that speech. Fortunately, I will never win an Oscar and all that frightening jubilation can be safely conducted behind closed doors, open to the scrutiny of no one but my cats—and they already judge me for less.
All this is to say, that while I have spent most of this semester griping about the pains of rejection, I do also know the joys of acceptance. Just this semester I have had two stories accepted for publication, and it feels great. That doesn’t mean that I will never be rejected ever again (though it should!!!!!!), but it does mean that I have a little something to prop me up when the rejections do come. I’ve made it before and I’ll make it again, I just have to hang in there. And then I can do my private happy dance and scare the cats again.
If you are interested, you can read one of my published stories here.