It's Monday, which means I'm going to ease into the blogging week with a frabjous discussion of the myriad uses for form rejections.
I like to pin up my tiered or personalized rejections above my desk, but the form ones, being both a) more copious and b) neither near or dear to my coal-black heart, require something more involved/vindictive. Therefore—in patented (call the U.S. Patent Office if you don't believe me) Bullet-o-Vision™—the first 10 of my 101 Form Rejection Projects for a Rainy Day:
· Cathartic papier-mâché. Make a tiny replica of you sitting on a stack of your bestsellers! Make a tiny replica of you winning the Pulitzer! Do not make a tiny replica of you strangling all the agents who rejected you. Bad karma.
· A crackly quilt for super hot nights. Staple (or sew, if you're sufficiently crafty) your form rejections together to make a blanket. Note: crying yourself to sleep on said blanket may cause the ink to run and is not recommended. Additional note: crying over form rejections in general is not recommended.
· Fancy coasters. Glue your rejections to pieces of cork and drink (something alcoholic) off your rejecters! (Rejectors?) If you're fancy: Laphroaig. If not: Jack Daniels.
· Origami. Try and make a thousand paper agents! (See #1, above, regarding treatment of said paper agents.)
· Use the backs to write The Great American Novel. Be green and emulate Thomas Wolfe at the same time!
· Agency trading cards. Collect them all! Trade them with your friends!
· A flipbook. Remember: no violence! Images of you winning multiple Nobel Prizes for Literature or receiving a $1,000,000.00 advance are permissible (and, in fact, encouraged).
· Make a fire. Preferably in your fireplace. Not as imaginative, but definitely cathartic.
· Pretend traffic tickets. Put them under the windshield wipers of cars parked on your block. Hide in the bushes and observe people's reactions.
· Confetti. Throw yourself a party! You're one rejection closer to representation.
Add yours in the comments!