Was I bitter? Absolutely. Hurt? You bet your sweet ass I was hurt. Who doesn't feel a part of their heart break at rejection. You ask yourself every question you can think of, what, why, how come, and then your sadness turns to anger. That's my favorite part. It drives me, feeds me, and makes one hell of a story.
Have you had a failure or rejection? You could get bitter. That's one way to deal with it. Or...you could just get BETTER. What do you think?
A boo is a lot louder than a cheer.
I finished my first book seventy-six years ago. I offered it to every publisher on the English-speaking earth I had ever heard of. Their refusals were unanimous: and it did not get into print until, fifty years later; publishers would publish anything that had my name on it.
Holly: [while Abe munches on his cob of corn] See this is her old problem. She creates a situation where she gets this rejection that everyone else sees coming. Robin: She just wasn't being honest. Holly: Well, I think it's a black thing too. Elaine: [more shocked] Jane is black? Abe: [mouth full of corn from his cob] Yes, Ma'am. She sure is. Robin: And you can't live a lie. You just can't. Holly: [glancing at Abe] Well, there's lying and then there's... just not telling. [Munching on his cob of corn, Abe glances up at her] Robin: Big diff. Elaine: She's a black Lesbian? Abe: [mouth full of corn from his cob] Yes, Ma'am. That is right. Elaine: [looking at Robin] And she was living here? With you? Holly: No, no, no no, no no. She was just living here. They weren't like fucking or anything. [Elaine gasps; Robin rolls her eyes. Abe laughs, nearly choking on his corn] Holly: [seeing Robin's expression and reconsidering] Were you? Elaine: [shocked] Were you? Abe: [eager] Were you? Robin: [indignantly disregarding them] Ah - I'll get the coffee.
I do not think I responded immediately, for it took me a moment or two to fully digest these words of Miss Kenton. Moreover, as you might appreciate, their implications were such as to provoke a certain degree of sorrow within me. Indeed- why should I not admit it? - at that moment, my heart was breaking.
To act, you must know pain. You must know what it means to be in love, what it means to be rejected.
I really wish I was less of a thinking man and more of a fool not afraid of rejection.
It's easy to cry when you realize that everyone you love will reject you or die.
It can be depressing when no one takes interest, and a lack of response makes the writer question why they
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