Yesterday I read a tweet that threw my already opposite-of-burgeoning self-esteem against the wall and then stomped on it until its blood was caked with mud. The tweet itself was helpful and the response was in its own way helpful as well.
My reason accepts the information, but because I'm a fragile young woman *cough,* the truth behind the tweet was heard, and it hurt. There is going to be an uphill battle to get LitD published. Being ever practical, I decided not to blog about it then. My post would only be whiney and completely overblown. I would feel better in the morning.
Except, I didn't. Actually, I'm fairly certain I felt a whole bouquet of dandelions worse. Again, I'm practical (or at least I try hard to be so), so I donned my whitest dress and my whitest shoes in a rebellious act against the tweet. "I don't care what you think. I'm going to get published. And just to show you, I'm going to wear the closest thing to regulation whites I own." And I did. Here's a picture:
Then, I kissed my sleeping daughter good-bye and drove my little tushie to work. The hallways were cool and dim, for I always arrive at school an hour before most everyone else. Feeling deflated, I didn't turn the lights on. Let them think I wasn't coming to work today. My coworkers always know when I call in sick because the office lights will be off when they get there. Ultimately, practicality won and I felt silly, so I compromised; I turned two light switches on. Oh, yeah. I'm a rebel.* I don't know what that was supposed to accomplish, but in my head, it was something great.
In the semi-dark, I made an answer key for the upcoming test on radical expressions. Then, I went to the administrative office to make copies of a BINGO sheet. I know; you don't care. But there--there the ever lovely and optimistic secretary told me, "Look at you, all dressed in white! Happy May Day!"
How had I forgotten today was May Day? I can't even fathom it. It's a sign. The novel that has been knocking around in my head (the one that isn't LitD2) is perfect for today. So while that one tweet told me I probably won't find an agent for LitD unless LitD is as spectacular as I really think it is, the more-than-coincidence that compelled me to wear white on May Day leads me to believe life is not over. (Yes, I'm being purposely overly adverbly dramatic.)
I think I'm going to start the new novel tonight. I'm going to need a lot of help with it, but I will start it. It's a sign. Yep. It is.
From then on, I knew it was going to be a better day.
My question for you:
How do you bounce back from bad news?
*A rebel? No. Johnny Yuma was a rebel.