Meh. I've been rejected by a wedding blog. Meh.
I know that in the grand scheme, this will probably rank as one of the least significant moments of rejection in my lifetime (not like the time in fifth grade, when K. Sykes announced that I'd never get a boyfriend--in fifth grade). It is however, a bit of a blow to the withering writer in me.
This time last year I was writing at least ten pages a week, which felt like a lot to a girl who was juggling all things senior-year-of-college. Not exactly Dickens, but it was something. And I felt like I was writing with a little bit of GRIT, because I knew everything that landed on paper would eventually be seem by the beady little eyes of my Creative Writing professors, for better or for worse.
So now I'm writing about my wedding there, and the rest of my life here, but I'm hungry for that GRIT again.
Anybody want to have a writing party? Write five pages and have a swaparoo?
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