Five rejections in the past few days just makes me want to snap my computer in half and sink back into clay. When I was a potter at least I knew I was good. I have pieces that sat in galleries, pieces that graced museums, and one teaset in a permanent collection.
It's like starting over. I feel like I did when I first tossed a lump of clay onto the wheelhead. It came out all lopsided and crappy. Mom loved it. She loves everything. Everything I make, everything I write... well, that's not entirely true. She's pretty hardcore when it comes to reading and pulls no punches when it's crap (even if it's mine).
Dang though. Five. 5. Hey, I can still count my rejections on one hand. Wooohooo.
-chris
It's like starting over. I feel like I did when I first tossed a lump of clay onto the wheelhead. It came out all lopsided and crappy. Mom loved it. She loves everything. Everything I make, everything I write... well, that's not entirely true. She's pretty hardcore when it comes to reading and pulls no punches when it's crap (even if it's mine).
Dang though. Five. 5. Hey, I can still count my rejections on one hand. Wooohooo.
-chris