Rejection is such a harsh word, isn't it? At its bare bones, the word itself merely means to refuse, or to not accept. It has a lot of connotation, though, and I imagine that's what the harshness stems from. The word's implied meaning is that of repulsion: rejection is suggested to be a bad thing, rather than the simple failure to accept.
I recently received a rejection letter, which, as I'm sure you can imagine, is the reason for this post. I submitted a poem in response to a call put out by a Canadian literary magazine about three months ago, and their response arrived in my inbox a week ago. The e-mail told that the magazine receives a great number of submissions a year and is only in a position to publish a few. I am subscribed to the magazine and can see this is true, given how relatively short each issue is.
Why is it, then, that I and so many others perceive the humble rejection letter to be a failure?
A rejection letter is a good thing. This may be a difficult concept for many to believe, but a rejection letter may also be a compliment. The publishing company is saying that while they may believe your submission to be a worthwhile one, it doesn't necessarily fit with what they were looking for. Why is this a compliment? You were worth responding to. Maybe this seems like a common courtesy, but it does mean that your work wasn't just tossed to the wayside. They read your submission over, analysed it, and after careful thought gave you a no as a response.
The rejection letter is a humbling reminder that we are not perfect, no matter whether this is our first rejection letter or our fifty-first. It is a reminder that we can always improve in some way, and when we look extensively at our own work, perhaps to the point of getting others to look at it for us, we'll be able to find those things that make our work imperfect and polish them. Perhaps your work wasn't rejected due to its imperfections, but searching for those imperfections is a good exercise anyway.
Content people are creative people, that is very true. But you can be content and still strive to improve your work. It's good to be pleased with work you have done, but it's more constructive to try and improve upon it.
That said, I will include the poem that I wrote and had rejected. Perhaps this reflection will help me fix my errors, as well!
This poem is called "Siblings". I wrote it for a magazine that was doing a call for sibling-related poetry. My problem is that I do not have any siblings of my own: I am an only child. That is a possible reason for the rejection, of course, but the reflection of having received a rejection letter was, I feel, still very relevant. Perhaps if the poem was--to use a vague term--better, it still would have been published.
Siblings by K. M. Cooper
Lone
As the pheasant who crows in the spring,
Searching through the brush for its partner.
My search is not so simple.
All my life I have craved a sibling--
A younger child to hold, to teach, to grow with.
When I was young,
Christmas commercials of sisters baking cookies together would bring me to tears.
"You're lucky," friends assured me.
"Having a sister is awful."
I wasn't so sure.
Time passes by and I grow older.
No longer a child, I understand now
My time to have a brother or sister has passed.
I still feel a pang of regret when I hear the conversations--
Nieces and nephews, never to have.
Never the blood-aunt, for my husband, too, is without siblings.
I've resigned myself to a life of fraternal solitude.
Family is, however, what you make.
You cannot choose your blood relatives,
But "family" and "blood relation" are not the same.
No, family is a whole different animal.
The world is filled with my little brothers and sisters,
Some of them older,
Adopted from various walks of life.
Five little sisters I once made coffee with,
Each one eager with news, or asking advice.
Like an older sister, I listen, but in my own way.
Unlike a true older sister, they can share and be assured
I will not tell their parents.
A seemingly twin brother, as well:
We dressed in matching Halloween costumes--
Moustache and all--
As our fiances looked on, bemused.
One little sister, crying on the phone,
Threatening self-violence.
Like a textbook older sister, what I do is sometimes harsh,
In this instance to the point of calling an ambulance.
My aim is not to be liked,
But to guide and protect, even when such guidance may be questioned.
Even disdained.
Inside jokes shared with a blood-relative whose mother is my mother's sister--
Cousins, siblings.
What's the difference?
Any blood relation is, after all, just a bonus.
The pheasant crows, again, and emerges triumphant with his hen.
I may walk alone a spectator,
But my brothers and sisters walk beside me in spirit.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Next project
I'm starting work now on my next project, which will be the spiritual successor to Hub City Survival. There will be no zombies in this one, however there will be a great mystery to unravel, and it will take place again in Canada, this time in the fictional town of Cullingville. I, again, plan on releasing this chapter-by-chapter online, probably through my deviantArt account.
This one, however, I plan to be a little different.
If you recall, a few posts back I embedded a brief short film/trailer I shot back in April. If you don't recall, here it is:
I've decided to use this as a trailer for the project, and my plan for it is to become an online, episodic writing project, akin to what Hub City Survival was, only with a twist: I want people to be involved! Ideally, this story will be semi-interactive, giving the readers a chance to involve themselves in it. My ideal would be to have people give clues by comments in deviantArt to serve as letters or hints, and also to help decide what the main character, Dahlia, is to do through polls.
I hope to get started on the project soon, but I'd like some opinions first! Feel free to go and join the discussion on my deviantArt page or to start a separate discussion here!
This one, however, I plan to be a little different.
If you recall, a few posts back I embedded a brief short film/trailer I shot back in April. If you don't recall, here it is:
I've decided to use this as a trailer for the project, and my plan for it is to become an online, episodic writing project, akin to what Hub City Survival was, only with a twist: I want people to be involved! Ideally, this story will be semi-interactive, giving the readers a chance to involve themselves in it. My ideal would be to have people give clues by comments in deviantArt to serve as letters or hints, and also to help decide what the main character, Dahlia, is to do through polls.
I hope to get started on the project soon, but I'd like some opinions first! Feel free to go and join the discussion on my deviantArt page or to start a separate discussion here!
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Summer
Atlantic Canada doesn't really get a spring. Usually we have a very late winter, lasting well through April and sometimes into May. This May, we literally have had rain every day until today.
Today was, summarily, a summer's day. The sun was bright and warm, birds were singing, people walked down the street in shorts and musicians played in the parks. It was a summer's day in which anything seemed possible.
One of my lines in the poem, "creation/appearing/from midair/something/from nothing" exactly describes my thought process as the poem formed in my mind. Thoughts crossed my mind rapidly, so I wrote the poem in a deliberately rapid-fire manner. I also deliberately put only two words per line. I wanted to capture the essence of what I felt, which was the swirling chaos of summer life becoming a magical whirlwind of brightness, colour, and vibrant, happy people.
I like to experiment with form from time to time, so in this particular poem I set up 5 columns. It is read from top to bottom, left to right. By this I mean you read the first column from top to bottom, then move onto the next column on the right and continue.
This is far from a polished masterpiece, but it certainly describes how I felt at the time of writing it. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.
Today was, summarily, a summer's day. The sun was bright and warm, birds were singing, people walked down the street in shorts and musicians played in the parks. It was a summer's day in which anything seemed possible.
One of my lines in the poem, "creation/appearing/from midair/something/from nothing" exactly describes my thought process as the poem formed in my mind. Thoughts crossed my mind rapidly, so I wrote the poem in a deliberately rapid-fire manner. I also deliberately put only two words per line. I wanted to capture the essence of what I felt, which was the swirling chaos of summer life becoming a magical whirlwind of brightness, colour, and vibrant, happy people.
I like to experiment with form from time to time, so in this particular poem I set up 5 columns. It is read from top to bottom, left to right. By this I mean you read the first column from top to bottom, then move onto the next column on the right and continue.
This is far from a polished masterpiece, but it certainly describes how I felt at the time of writing it. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.
| musicians somewhere grass between my toes punctuated by dandelions and me somewhere walking breathing in song on my lips | sun-baked breeze cars revving shorts skirts and fountains feet dancing along traintracks moving aside let the train pass all peaceful | smoke curling from a balcony a sidewalk a terrace drinks people talking smiles and laughter memories fading into existence | summer is magic creation appearing from midair something from nothing shared moments become possibilities romance flower scent on air real | not imagined day becomes night patio lanterns fireflies bonfires make trails of sparks and finally realisation that anything is possible |
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Writing Clusterbomb
Inspiration comes in many different forms, and the end result can be anything from a haiku to a novel. Sometimes, however, my inspiration will sort of dance sideways and produce something completely different.
This has happened not once, but thrice lately. I've started writing a song. I'm working on a quirky blog about video games, called Spoiler Alert!, which is exactly as the title says: full of spoilers. It also rife with cursing and snark, which I'm new to writing. If you're interested, here is the link to Spoiler Alert!
The third and possibly strangest of my non-conventional writing endeavors is most likely a short film a made one afternoon. I wrote, shot, and edited the whole thing over the course of a day on Easter weekend. Rather, today. It is heavily inspired by the game Fragile Dreams, which I consequently just wrote about in Spoiler Alert!.
The question now is what to do with this! Should I turn it into a miniature web series? Should I make a movie? Should it be my next web-writing series, a la Hub City Survival? I know I want to do something with it, but I don't know what!
Ever had something take you in a completely different direction than you expected? Tell me about it in the comments!
This has happened not once, but thrice lately. I've started writing a song. I'm working on a quirky blog about video games, called Spoiler Alert!, which is exactly as the title says: full of spoilers. It also rife with cursing and snark, which I'm new to writing. If you're interested, here is the link to Spoiler Alert!
The third and possibly strangest of my non-conventional writing endeavors is most likely a short film a made one afternoon. I wrote, shot, and edited the whole thing over the course of a day on Easter weekend. Rather, today. It is heavily inspired by the game Fragile Dreams, which I consequently just wrote about in Spoiler Alert!.
The question now is what to do with this! Should I turn it into a miniature web series? Should I make a movie? Should it be my next web-writing series, a la Hub City Survival? I know I want to do something with it, but I don't know what!
Ever had something take you in a completely different direction than you expected? Tell me about it in the comments!
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Walking to work
For some reason, I'm always able to pull inspiration from my surroundings at the most inopportune of times. One of those more frequent times tends to be when I'm on my way to work. One of the nice things about this is that I can jot down some of my ideas as I walk with my iPod touch.
Here are a few haiku that I have written on the way to work:
I.
A moment of calm
Before these hours of chaos
Overwhelming me.
II.
Grey cat disappears
Phantom smoke in the bushes
But there is no fire.
III.
Earthworms on pavement
Writhing around wet cement
City of the dead.
A companion to the first haiku is the following poem, which I wrote the other day.
Further moments of calm before chaos
Birdsong my soundtrack
Scent of fresh-fallen rain
The unknown summoning me on an adventure
Though I protest--
Although an adventure is precisely what I crave,
I have previous engagements.
Despite a warning from an oncomer, I write.
Sometimes, inspiration doesn't care if I get a little wet
And neither do I.
What I'm saying is that I want to run off for the day and find something else to do. Like a child I want to chase the wayward wind, leap into a forest or comb the beach for treasure. But, alas.
I know it's not the most intricate of poems but it's merely a work in progress that I may turn into something more at a later time. Poems will do that. They start with a spark, they catch something and flicker, and the next thing you know they have engulfed your page. Some of them just tend to take a little longer than others!
If you'd like, share some of your unfinished works, or works in progress. I'd love to read them!
Here are a few haiku that I have written on the way to work:
I.
A moment of calm
Before these hours of chaos
Overwhelming me.
II.
Grey cat disappears
Phantom smoke in the bushes
But there is no fire.
III.
Earthworms on pavement
Writhing around wet cement
City of the dead.
A companion to the first haiku is the following poem, which I wrote the other day.
Further moments of calm before chaos
Birdsong my soundtrack
Scent of fresh-fallen rain
The unknown summoning me on an adventure
Though I protest--
Although an adventure is precisely what I crave,
I have previous engagements.
Despite a warning from an oncomer, I write.
Sometimes, inspiration doesn't care if I get a little wet
And neither do I.
What I'm saying is that I want to run off for the day and find something else to do. Like a child I want to chase the wayward wind, leap into a forest or comb the beach for treasure. But, alas.
I know it's not the most intricate of poems but it's merely a work in progress that I may turn into something more at a later time. Poems will do that. They start with a spark, they catch something and flicker, and the next thing you know they have engulfed your page. Some of them just tend to take a little longer than others!
If you'd like, share some of your unfinished works, or works in progress. I'd love to read them!
Friday, February 4, 2011
In the news!
Things have been rather hectic on my end of late, so I haven't had as much time to update the blog.
That doesn't mean that I've been without news, however. Quite the opposite, in fact: I've been IN the news!
This past week, I was featured in the local newspaper's Fifteen Minutes of Fame column for a few different things, including but not limited to Hub City Survival. Check it out!
In addition to that, I've been rehearsing since November for A Streetcar Named Desire in which I play the role of Eunice Hubbell. That has been going on this week until Sunday. If you're in the Moncton area, the shows are tomorrow night at 7 PM, Sunday afternoon at 2 PM and Sunday evening at 7 PM. Check out the newspaper article, and then check out Hub City Theatre's website!
I'm of course still working on some writing... more on that once the play's through!
That doesn't mean that I've been without news, however. Quite the opposite, in fact: I've been IN the news!
This past week, I was featured in the local newspaper's Fifteen Minutes of Fame column for a few different things, including but not limited to Hub City Survival. Check it out!
In addition to that, I've been rehearsing since November for A Streetcar Named Desire in which I play the role of Eunice Hubbell. That has been going on this week until Sunday. If you're in the Moncton area, the shows are tomorrow night at 7 PM, Sunday afternoon at 2 PM and Sunday evening at 7 PM. Check out the newspaper article, and then check out Hub City Theatre's website!
I'm of course still working on some writing... more on that once the play's through!
Monday, November 1, 2010
National Novel Writing Month
It's that time of year again!
At about 1 o'clock this morning, I started my novel for NaNoWriMo! I am, of course, not very far into it just yet; as of now, I have written 849 words. Nevertheless, it is a start.
My usual NaNoWriMo strategy usually involves a large amount of Word Wars, which can usually be found on the NaNoWriMo chat or forums, and a lot of Word Sprints as well. Word Wars tally up your collective word count and can tell you how much you've written as a result of the Wars. You can have a friendly competition with other NaNo-ers in this way, but the competitions are usually for personal accomplishment.
Another NaNo strategy I have is to get someone to pick a random word for me (preferably a commonplace word) and try to use it in a sentence, or, better yet, write an entire paragraph around it.
This year, my novel is more serious than in past years. Normally I write about a group of adventurers called the Panzerotti Group who get into all kinds of ridiculous exploits. This year, however, I'm writing a psychological horror/action-adventure novel. I'm trying to use a different technique by picking a "mood song" for every chapter and having that song in mind while I write it. Here is my current mood song:
It's a remix from the video game Shadow of the Colossus. I want to get a similar feeling of loneliness and emptiness that the game tends to portray. My main character, Odessa, is all alone in a strange land, and she really relates to Wander from Shadow of the Colossus in that sense. The difference is that Wander is armed with a number of ways to defeat his loneliness: he is battling to resurrect someone, and he has his horse, Agro, to assist him. Odessa is completely and utterly alone, and she doesn't even remember who she is.
Here's a small excerpt from my novel, which is currently nameless.
She couldn't remember when she had even fallen asleep.
She blinked slowly as she awoke, and her eyes adjusted easily to the darkness, as though she had been there for a long time. The only light that met her eyes was a very faint, distant shimmer. She couldn't begin to fathom where it was coming from; she had to let her mind adjust to the fact that she was awake.
She suddenly felt very ill as she realised she didn't remember anything at all. It wasn't so much that she couldn't remember falling asleep... she couldn't remember what she had been doing before that, or how she got to be in such a dark place. Fear overtook her suddenly, and she couldn't stop herself from whimpering out loud.
"Hello?" she called. She tried a few times, just to make sure, but there was no response whatsoever. Panic was beginning to set in when she realised one last thing.
She couldn't even place her own name.
She struggled with this for a moment as tears of shock spilled down her cheeks. The sadness of her own situation overwhelmed her, and she suddenly felt very, very helpless.
How could she possibly find a way out if she didn't even know how she got there in the first place?
Her screaming began then. She screamed and screamed until her throat was raw. "Help me!" she cried. "Come find me! Get me out of here!". But no one came.
When at last her throat was hoarse and raw, she couldn't scream any longer. She sat there for a few minutes in silence, looking down to where the light was coming from. In a moment, she knew she would have to get out. She pushed herself to a stand, which proved difficult due to her legs being asleep, and she started to stumble toward the apparent exit.
In the time it took her to stand, she had started to notice a dull rumbling noise, with an accompanying tremor. She ignored it at first, but then found she simply couldn't, because the noise and vibrations were increasing. Whatever it was seemed to be getting closer to her. She broke into an all-out run then, taking little to no care where her footing landed her. She nearly found herself tripping a few times, but she managed to regain her balance as the creature came closer. She glanced behind her to see if she could perhaps get a glimpse of whatever was after her, but she found with dismay that the darkness was too thick to allow this.
The light grew closer and flooded the corridor ahead to make things visible. She now could see where she was running. She could also see where exactly the light was coming from.
It was coming from the ceiling.
She whimpered upon seeing this, knowing full well that she would probably have to find a way to climb up to escape. She also noticed that the hole wasn't very big, meaning that she would have to probably squeeze her way through. She realised then that she couldn't even remember what she looked like, and she hoped against hope that the opening in the ceiling could possibly be big enough to fit her. She refocused her efforts and tried to concentrate on finding a ladder, or something that could be suitable as a ladder. After some searching, she discovered a notched log resting nearby and attempted to prop it close to the hole to shimmy up it. This didn't work in the least; every time she tried to shimmy up, the log would topple down unapologetically. She cursed and sobbed, listening as the beast grew ever closer. She was out of ideas.
I'll likely update throughout the month with other excerpts. If you're writing for NaNo, add me on the website: my username is Nekonezume. Feel free to post an excerpt from your novel in the comments, as well. I'd be interested to read! If not an excerpt, then give me a little summary! I'm curious to know.
Until next time!
K. Cooper
At about 1 o'clock this morning, I started my novel for NaNoWriMo! I am, of course, not very far into it just yet; as of now, I have written 849 words. Nevertheless, it is a start.
My usual NaNoWriMo strategy usually involves a large amount of Word Wars, which can usually be found on the NaNoWriMo chat or forums, and a lot of Word Sprints as well. Word Wars tally up your collective word count and can tell you how much you've written as a result of the Wars. You can have a friendly competition with other NaNo-ers in this way, but the competitions are usually for personal accomplishment.
Another NaNo strategy I have is to get someone to pick a random word for me (preferably a commonplace word) and try to use it in a sentence, or, better yet, write an entire paragraph around it.
This year, my novel is more serious than in past years. Normally I write about a group of adventurers called the Panzerotti Group who get into all kinds of ridiculous exploits. This year, however, I'm writing a psychological horror/action-adventure novel. I'm trying to use a different technique by picking a "mood song" for every chapter and having that song in mind while I write it. Here is my current mood song:
It's a remix from the video game Shadow of the Colossus. I want to get a similar feeling of loneliness and emptiness that the game tends to portray. My main character, Odessa, is all alone in a strange land, and she really relates to Wander from Shadow of the Colossus in that sense. The difference is that Wander is armed with a number of ways to defeat his loneliness: he is battling to resurrect someone, and he has his horse, Agro, to assist him. Odessa is completely and utterly alone, and she doesn't even remember who she is.
Here's a small excerpt from my novel, which is currently nameless.
She couldn't remember when she had even fallen asleep.
She blinked slowly as she awoke, and her eyes adjusted easily to the darkness, as though she had been there for a long time. The only light that met her eyes was a very faint, distant shimmer. She couldn't begin to fathom where it was coming from; she had to let her mind adjust to the fact that she was awake.
She suddenly felt very ill as she realised she didn't remember anything at all. It wasn't so much that she couldn't remember falling asleep... she couldn't remember what she had been doing before that, or how she got to be in such a dark place. Fear overtook her suddenly, and she couldn't stop herself from whimpering out loud.
"Hello?" she called. She tried a few times, just to make sure, but there was no response whatsoever. Panic was beginning to set in when she realised one last thing.
She couldn't even place her own name.
She struggled with this for a moment as tears of shock spilled down her cheeks. The sadness of her own situation overwhelmed her, and she suddenly felt very, very helpless.
How could she possibly find a way out if she didn't even know how she got there in the first place?
Her screaming began then. She screamed and screamed until her throat was raw. "Help me!" she cried. "Come find me! Get me out of here!". But no one came.
When at last her throat was hoarse and raw, she couldn't scream any longer. She sat there for a few minutes in silence, looking down to where the light was coming from. In a moment, she knew she would have to get out. She pushed herself to a stand, which proved difficult due to her legs being asleep, and she started to stumble toward the apparent exit.
In the time it took her to stand, she had started to notice a dull rumbling noise, with an accompanying tremor. She ignored it at first, but then found she simply couldn't, because the noise and vibrations were increasing. Whatever it was seemed to be getting closer to her. She broke into an all-out run then, taking little to no care where her footing landed her. She nearly found herself tripping a few times, but she managed to regain her balance as the creature came closer. She glanced behind her to see if she could perhaps get a glimpse of whatever was after her, but she found with dismay that the darkness was too thick to allow this.
The light grew closer and flooded the corridor ahead to make things visible. She now could see where she was running. She could also see where exactly the light was coming from.
It was coming from the ceiling.
She whimpered upon seeing this, knowing full well that she would probably have to find a way to climb up to escape. She also noticed that the hole wasn't very big, meaning that she would have to probably squeeze her way through. She realised then that she couldn't even remember what she looked like, and she hoped against hope that the opening in the ceiling could possibly be big enough to fit her. She refocused her efforts and tried to concentrate on finding a ladder, or something that could be suitable as a ladder. After some searching, she discovered a notched log resting nearby and attempted to prop it close to the hole to shimmy up it. This didn't work in the least; every time she tried to shimmy up, the log would topple down unapologetically. She cursed and sobbed, listening as the beast grew ever closer. She was out of ideas.
I'll likely update throughout the month with other excerpts. If you're writing for NaNo, add me on the website: my username is Nekonezume. Feel free to post an excerpt from your novel in the comments, as well. I'd be interested to read! If not an excerpt, then give me a little summary! I'm curious to know.
Until next time!
K. Cooper
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