While I have submitted my poetry here and there over the
years, nothing much ever came of it. Rejection letter after rejection letter. Disappointment.
Discouragement. Admittedly, a bit of my inherited Dutch stubbornness to keep trying.
Last summer I submitted some of my work to the Breathe Writer’s Conference and
was awarded a scholarship, which gave my confidence a much-needed boost.
After attending the conference in October and being so encouraged by fellow
writers to continue submitting my work, I determined not to give up. So the
first thing I did when I got home was to start sending in submissions again. I
promptly received two more rejection letters. *sigh*
Then a friend messaged me a link to a call for submissions
for a new poetry prize. (Thank you, Susie!) I selected my three best poems,
composed a smashing cover letter, and sent my entry winging through cyberspace. And in all
honesty, work and family life and holiday commitments have kept me so
busy since then, I sort of forgot I’d sent it.
Until last evening when I received an email. What I thought
was another blanket rejection notice turned out to be an early Christmas
present. My heart swelled as I read the editor’s words:
“While you were not chosen our
winner, we want you to know your work stood out to us in a positive way. We are
unable to write a personal email to all of our submissions (we had over 350),
so the fact you are receiving this note is important—we want you to know that
we liked your work.”
They liked my work! Then came the best part:
“Your work was good and stood out
from over 350 submissions, so please do not see this as a loss; it’s not.
Please take this note not as a no, but
a not yet….While you were not chosen,
we know good things are headed your way with your writing.”
You’re probably thinking, Why is she so excited about a rejection letter? After all, they won’t
be awarding me a shiny medal or a cash prize. Nor will they be publishing my
work. To which I reply: Not. Yet.
This is the first time I received more than an impersonal form letter
from a busy poetry journal editor. This was a personal communication, and it
contained words of encouragement that my heart so needed to hear. Perhaps I
should frame it, wrap it up in pretty paper with a fancy bow, then unwrap it on
Christmas morning as a reminder: You’re a
poet, Amy. Keep writing. Keep recording these words, images, prayers, feelings.
Do your best work. Good things will come when the time is right.
