Thick skin.

Another day, another magazine rejection.

Rejection sucks. I'm trying to man up and not be all George McFly about it, but realistically, you'd have to be a robot to not feel a bit demoralized from the "Thanks, but no thanks" that they send.

I know that if getting fiction published were easy, everyone would do it. I know that it's not supposed to be easy. I know the hard is what makes it great.

Still...

...IT SUCKS!

I'm not really wallowing though. I've got too much to do in terms of my dissertation to wallow. Plus, possibly seeing Star Trek in IMAX to look forward to (shut up, why can't a person see a movie multiple times in the theater?), as well as multiple people's birthday parties in the next few days, and most importantly, a warm, sunny weekend in the forecast. And you can't be down when there's warmth and sun scheduled for Glasgow.

(Okay, maybe I'm wallowing a little. But it's nothing that a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch wouldn't fix. A box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch that someone would have to mail across the ocean to me, since it's unavailable in Scotland. HINT HINT.)