Well, the rejection letter from The Fiddlehead arrived on Monday. Today, I tried to decode it, but gave up and thought about where I should send the set of poems next (link via Confessions of an Idiosyncratic Mind). Apparently, the editor wanted more imagery in my poems, but considering I'm not what you'd call an image-rich writer, that might be hard.
I felt sad and defeated, a little upset about the state of my non-writing career, having heard that a self-defined arch-nemesis of mine from grad school has a book coming out soon. She's the kind of girl who's nice to you when it suits her, but then pretends not to know you when she sees you walking on the street. But, whatever, life's not a race, right?
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