Bruised Artist Seeking Truth . . . .

It’s raining AGAIN! My daughter’s softball game was rained out AGAIN! I’m not sure if my depressed state of mind is a result of the rain or a result of a rejection and some too honest words.

I have a rejection from Bygone Days. I read the work on the website and thought Winter of 1917 was a good fit for the publication. I received the following reply and yes, actually was spelled wrong, but I am not above an occasional typo myself:

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Thank you for letting us take a look at your story, Winter of 1917. It's
an intriguing story that is wonderfully dramatic. Unfortunately, the
telling by the narrator at some future point in time distances the reader
from the action, which lessens character development and impact. In fact,
your last paragraph might actaully work better as a first paragraph by
drawing the reader right into the story.
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The editor is probably right. I’ll look at the story again and see what I can do to improve it with her suggestions, if it looks right. I won’t submit there again. I’ll probably fail, but I’ll seek out bigger fish.

I posted a poem on a website for critique. Many folks had good things to say, but I can’t get the following out of my head:

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--At any rate, this did seem
heartfelt and yet flawed by tired phrases and
the absence of fresh images.
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Flawed by tired phrases and absence of fresh images – well isn’t that a kick in the head! My style is simple and honest. I don’t believe I have dark or flowery metaphors in my repertoire, nor do I think they fit my style. Perhaps my style is tired phrases and absent of fresh images. I wanted to write back and call him a pompous old fart, but instead I complimented the group on their quality of work, laughed it off that I’m just beginning, and I so appreciated them taking the time to respond. Most of them were very helpful and pleasant.

On a good note, despite the hectic week, I managed to get five pages of Chapter 13 on the yellow legal pad. I hope to get it input into the computer either today at lunch or tomorrow.

BLHHHHHHHHHSSSSS (that’s the air going out of my sails)