I'm trying not to take you personally. I'm trying to be all Zen about you, each time you come into my email box or via the SASE that I enclosed with my submission to Some Literary Journal. I'm trying to say to you, "you're part of the process" and "the only way to not have you in my life is to give up sending my stories out." And I believe those things, I do.
But part of me still wishes you were a distinct entity that I could greet with a steel-toed kick in the crotch the next time you tried to make your way into my life. Another part of me wishes that I would never have to meet you again. Ever. And the rest of me knows that's not possible (See "the things I'm trying to say to you").
So Rejection, I will not take you personally. I will remember that all it takes to get out of you and into Acceptance is one editor who likes my work. I will make some tweaks to the story I've been sending out based on a wonderful reader's advice, and I will just keep going.
But Rejection? If you decide to stay home and hibernate this winter, I will knit you a quilt and brew you some tea to make sure you're nice and cozy.
With Grudging Fondness,