His talent? His TALENT?!

Skimming though my "drafts" folder I found a bunch of old blog posts that I never published for one reason or another.  This one is from last fall, when Swiss police arrested producer/director Roman Polanski because of his outstanding U.S. warrant (the U.S. then formally requested extradition).

There was a huge uproar, with many filmakers, actors, and producers coming out in support of Polanski and his "unjust treatment" because of his "extraordinary talent."

To recap: Polanski drugged and raped (and sodomized) a 13-year-old girl.  He pleaded guilty to "engaging in unlawful sexual intercourse," a lesser offense, in a deal to preserve the girl's anonymity. To escape sentencing he fled the country and never came back.  He remarried and lived as a free man in Europe for thirty years.  He continued to work.  The 13-year-old-girl, now all grown up and wanting to move on with her life and stop being asked about Polanski all time time, tells people to just let it go.

For the record, the situation with this child was hardly a solitary "lapse in judgment" on Polanski's part.  His first two wives were younger than he, though both were certainly legal.  Then there was the 13-year-old-girl.  Then 15-year-old Nastassja Kinski when he was 43 (they dated for a few years). He's currently married to Emmanuelle Seigner, who is 33 years his junior. That wouldn't be so unusual for Hollywood, perhaps, if it weren't for the larger pattern. She was in her early 20's when they married. (See link below for his chilling commentary on the normalcy of his desires.)

My thoughts:

Does this mean that I can ignore any laws I want as long as I'm talented enough?

Ridiculous!

If rape is wrong, then rape is wrong. Why should a convicted rapist get a free pass because he left the country and eluded arrest for years? Horrible precedent.


Backlash builds against support of Polanski

"on ABC's "The View," in which panelist and actress Whoopi Goldberg made the comment that she didn't believe the original charges against Polanski were for "rape-rape," as what he views as a pervasive attitude.

"I assume [Goldberg] regrets saying what she said, but she really didn't say anything that is not under the surface anyway," Weeks said. "This is just the attitude, that children are property and crimes against them are not real crimes." Video Watch a discussion of about Polanski's supporters »

Goldberg's fellow panelist, Sherri Shepherd, said during the show that she believed Polanski should still be punished.

On Twitter, she tweeted, "Whew... long day at 'The View'... two shows today... hot debate over the Statutory Rapist Polanski. 45-year-old man plies a 13-yr-old w/drugs & Liquor and anally & orally penetrates her w/o her consent is a RAPIST. We hunt down 75-year-old Nazis. We must protect our children."

Actress Kirstie Alley wrote on Twitter "JUST FOR THE RECORD....RAPE IS RAPE...this is one HOLLYWOOD STAR who does not CELEBRATE or DEFEND Roman Polanski..his ART did not RAPE her.""

Earlier in that CNN article (link above) there's a list of celebrities who signed "a petition which states, "Roman Polanski is a French citizen, a renown and international artist now facing extradition. This extradition, if it takes place, will be heavy in consequences and will take away his freedom.""

Well, yes. That's generally how we punish rapists. And child molesters.



Filmmakers demand Polanski's release

Artist Rally Behind Polanski

Reminder: Roman Polanski raped a child Finally arrested 32 years after he fled sentencing for unlawful sex with a minor, the director is ... a big hero?

"Everyone wants to f--- young girls."

Sanity: Roman Polanski Has a Lot of Friends (I really wish I could write like Pollitt.)


I'm going to remember the names of some "stars" who support Polanski:
Woody Allen, Martin Scorsese and John Landis
Penelope Cruz, Tilda Swinton and Monica Bellucci
and many, many others.

A positive suggestion from the internet: "Instead of making the petition about releasing Polanski it should be stated as a petition for the social approval of drugging and raping a 13-year-old child."

Petition for the Release of Roman Polanski

In the Mirror

I keep talking to people who are really bad at ending conversations.

Eventually, I recognized the common denominator.

Go! St. Louis

At heart, I am a lazy, slovenly, and gluttonous person. Fortunately, I've found that being healthy and active doesn't necessarily mean I need to change my nature.

Active weekend:

Friday evening: We head down to SLU so that Paul can pick up his race packet then drive the course together, explaining to the girls about Daddy's big run on Sunday.  Then home for dinner and a movie.  (The active part here comes from playing outside with the kids earlier in the day plus making exercise - like this weekend's big race - a regular part of our lives.)

Saturday: We all go to soccer with Ellie. Afterward, Ellie and Daddy head to "practice reading class" and Ada and I go for a nature walk at Powder Valley. My favorite part of the day: pasta for dinner followed by cheesecake for dessert.  This is OK because of the morning's exercise, plus we're gearing up for tomorrow . . .

Sunday: the girls and I go downtown to watch Paul compete in the Go! St. Louis Half Marathon. This involves a bit of walking and running while stroller pushing for me and lots of standing, waving and shouting. I'm sure Paul extended a little effort, too, running 13.1 miles in 154 minutes.

After the race we hustle off to a reception for some friends leaving town. Alas! Then home for lunch and down time: Ada down for a nap, Ellie downstairs to watch a video, and Paul down and out on the couch in the front room.

Since I've been carb loading as if I too were competing in a half marathon, I decide to take advantage of my own down time. I turn on the Wii Fit and run for 80 minutes. According to me, I covered zero miles. (After all, I was jogging in place on a trampoline in front of my television set.) According to the Wii Fit I ran 13 miles. Of course I ran for just over half the time Paul ran, plus I didn't have to propel my body forward at all. So I didn't really do a half marathon.  Still, it was a solid workout.  Tonight?  TV and a treat.

If I exercise, I can eat without counting every single calorie.  For me, this is a very good thing. 

Tomorrow?  Housecleaning!   (See above, re: slovenly.)  Also on the schedule: catch-up on overdue things like email and committee work.  That should set me up with enough free time to keep up with my lazy later in the week.  Cheers!

Easter

There were five lovely, warm, sunny hours between wake-up time and church.



Our girls wore white hats.

 

Hunting.



Nature walk.



Were you counting? Ellie appeared in four outfits on Easter!

The Cougar Club by Susan McBride

This month for Barrie Summy's Book Review Club I'm reviewing THE COUGAR CLUB by Susan McBride (HarperCollins/Avon) as is Staci of Life in the Thumb.

In the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you that my husband, Paul, is two years and nine months younger than I am.  Does that make me a cougar?  I don't think so.  But I will admit that what feels like no big deal in our 30's felt a little more significant when we were 22 and 19.  Also, my best friend is four years older than her husband.  And my sister is a whopping five months older than hers.  So you decide: are we a Cougar Club?

McBride took some heat for the title of her new book even before it was published.  Apparently, some people find the term "cougar" to describe an older woman dating a younger man offensive.  McBride - married to a man eleven years younger than she - has a wonderful sense of humor about the whole thing.

THE COUGAR CLUB begins a new series about three best friends in their mid-40's, each of whom is making a fresh start of some kind and has a connection to a younger man.

The two best things about this book, in my opinion, are the fact that it's set in St. Louis (woo hoo!) and the characters.  They are - as always in McBride's books - so real that they outlive the pages of the novel.  I have recently realized that I'm 35.  It's not the number that's freaking me out (although, of course it's the number that's freaking me out) but also every little bump, lump, and spot I see on my skin.  I really really really want to go visit dermatologist Dr. Elise Randolph.  I think, "Oh, she's just over at MoBap. I wonder if she can fit me in this month?"  Then I remember: she's a fictional character.  Besides, I'm sure she's all booked up and it would be a little awkward anyway with all the details I know about her private life.

Last year I reviewed the first book in St. Louis author Susan McBride's last series, The Debs (Young Adult, Random House). I thought the writing good and I cared about the characters, though the style was a bit opulent and name-droppy for me.

The same is true here, to some extent.  There's far less name dropping in The Cougar Club than in The Debs, and the names the characters drop are much more my style (Krups coffee maker? Yes, please!).

I love the premise of the series.  I love the quotes from the characters between chapters.  And I love the enduring, loyal friendships between three grown women.

Also, I am really excited for a local author made good; Random House was so invested in this new series that they promoted the book, gave it a great cover, and even printed the trade paperback with spot gloss.  But enough industry talk.

On to the criticism.  I had a hard time loving one of the main characters in the novel (Carla Moss, news anchor).  And and hearing all the characters' ongoing concerns about aging, I found myself panicking about my own slow demise.  (This latter might be a good thing. I've worn sunscreen every day since completing the book. Oh how I wish I hadn't spent my college summers lifeguarding and getting so tan.)

The plot didn't move along quite the way I wanted it to.  This book felt like an introduction to the characters we'll learn more about in the next installment.  Here they are, here's what's going on in their lives, now hang on for book two.


I like McBride's writing and while The Cougar Club wasn't perfect, it drew me in.  I'll be sipping cocktails at Brio, waiting for the next novel in the series.

Here's a blog post from the author discussing reactions to her book. Definitely check it out, because there are two cute videos of the author.

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@Barrie Summy

Debt

The national debt is horrifying.  (Don't watch while operating heavy machinery; you might experience vertigo.)

Deficit spending is out of control. (That's less dramatic but might still make your head spin.)

And congress can't cut spending or raise taxes if its members want to be reelected.

What to do? I'm not an economist, mathematician, politician, or actuary. So maybe my thoughts are worthless. But we have to do something. Here's my idea:

1) Balance the budget, leaving out the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

2) Pass a law saying that whenever congress sends troops to fight somewhere, we pay for it at the same time by instituting a "Freedom Tax" to support our troops while they're at war.

There are about 138,000,000 American tax payers. The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan cost, say, $150,000,000,000 annually. I'm thinking the Freedom Tax should be $300 per year - per taxpayer - until the cost is paid in full.  ($41,000,000,000 per year or so. It's going to take a little while.)

Or maybe all this is wrong. I don't know. It turns out I don't like working with the national budget any more than I like working with my own household budget.  But shouldn't we all be concerned about this?



COSTOFWAR.COM - The Cost of War
Posted using ShareThis

Ring Around the Rosie

Being a Stay/Work at Home Mom

The Good:

This morning I played with my girls while we leisurely got dressed and listened to books on CD. We're all in comfortable, casual clothes. No make-up, no fancy hair styles, just everyday casual plus extra relaxed.

Then I walked Ellie to her bus, waved as she left, packed lunch with Ada, and drove my little one to preschool.

After getting her settled, I headed outside. The weather here this morning is sunny and lightly breezy with temperatures in the upper 60's. I took a brisk 3 mile walk before heading home.

And now I can . . . work, write, clean, or relax. The next few hours are all mine!

The Less Good:

Instead of going to bed when my eyes threatened to close last night, I was up finishing a freelance project on deadline.

That's such a minor complaint, though. I have the freedom and flexibility to work from home as my schedule allows. I get to make money and be home during the day. And I'm a night owl, anyway.

Also, it's sunny, warm, and spring! I feel very fortunate today.

Doing Our Part

In 2008 our household loaned the federal government a fair amount of money for 0% interest. Yay, us!

It went so well that we decided to do the same again in 2009. Super yay for our accountant!

In other words, we're hoping for a nice tax refund this year. If, theoretically, we dropped off our files and signed documents at our accountant's office in early March, when are we likely to hear back from him?

I don't want to be a nagging jerk during the busiest season of the year. But I am working on this year's vacation plans, so I'm . . . curious.

Is it rude to follow up before April 15th?


Edited to add: our accountant emailed last night with good news. Woo hoo! So glad we put in that energy efficient window.

Keeping a Mary Heart in a Martha World

Last weekend I attended a women's retreat called "Keeping a Mary Heart in a Martha world." The retreat was held at a Catholic retreat center and the other women were all Catholic. (I'm not Catholic, and this provided an interesting learning opportunity for me, though no significant problems.) The retreat was also a silent one - except for the "sessions" (small group discussions), a couple of the meals, and Saturday evening mass.

And the retreat was exactly what I needed; I feel refreshed and rejuvenated.

I was thrilled to learn that the retreat center is rarely used for organized retreats; it's actually a place where adults of any faith can go for peace and reflection. Meaning that (for a suggested donation of $35/night) I can go back, any time, on my own, to recharge. It's only thirty minutes south of St. Louis.

Vision of Peace Hermitages: "Vision of Peace Ministries exists to offer hospitality in a place where people of any faith, seeking solitude in their lives, can find a quiet peacefulness and an atmosphere conducive to private prayer and reflection."

A modest home sits on a bluff overlooking the Mississippi River. Standing on the back deck, you don't realize that the gentle, grass-covered lumps just before the cliff's edge are the roofs of hermitages, each with a stunning view of the river. Inside each hobbit hole is a single bed, a single desk, a single rocking chair, a kitchenette, and a bathroom. The accommodations are simple, rustic, and adequate. Walking along the railroad tracks, down by the river, through the woods, or along the half-mile gravel path to the main road, there's no pressure to "meet and greet." There's no concern over what to say to a stranger or a friend. In a place of silence, a small smile of acknowledgment is all that's needed.

(People keep asking me if the silence drove me crazy. I loved it! But I figure I must talk waaaaay too much if everyone I know thinks solitude must bug me. Bugs bug me. I dig solitude.)

Inside the main house lives a year-round caretaker. (He's a former monk, very friendly.) There's also a library and chapel open to guests staying in one of the nine single-occupancy hermitages.

My cabin, Holy Wisdom, was the furthest from the river. But my view was still lovely and as I was a little bit off by myself, the accommodations were perfect for me.


I'm afraid I abused the retreat a little. I loved it, participated in all the activities, and followed all the rules. But in my free time I didn't do as much meditating and praying as I was supposed to. Instead, I did a lot of the writerly work I rarely find time to do at home: rereading, editing, and rewriting. And that was just as glorious as the rest of the weekend, though I suspect that everything I wrote before 2009 might suck.

Have you ever been to a place like this? Do you have one near where you live? 

Hooray for Crunches

This is a blurry, awkwardly cropped, unflattering picture of me taken by my elder daughter last week. (Relevance to follow, but in the meantime I'll note that I was very proud of Ellie for looking at the camera display to frame the shot.) 

"Your daughter is adorable," an elderly man turned to me at dinner, after chatting with Ada.  I stood to clear our plates as he continued talking. "And she's going to have a little brother or sister."

"Thank you, and, no, that's just me."

Seriously. I get this all the time.  I used to think it was because of my affection for over-size clothes, but on this particular occasion, I was wearing a stretchy twin-set, cut relatively close to the body.  So it must just be . . . me.  The fact that all my pants are a size or two too big and give me extra pouchiness where I don't need it doesn't help.  But I'm hardly headed for the delivery room, regardless. The picture above was taken after dinner that same evening. What do you think? Am I accidentally in maternity wear?

Next week is Ada's last mommy and me dance class, which means only one more session of me allowing the instructor to think that I'm pregnant.  She never asked outright so that I can deny it, she just makes little comments, like, "This exercise is important for you mommies, especially you down there in that pink shirt looking absolutely adorable today."

It took me a couple lessons to realize that she thinks I'm expecting. And by that time there was no way to fix the problem without embarrassing everyone.

I'm thinking maybe I should just drag out my maternity clothes and pretend to be pregnant all the time. Heck, I'll be comfy and avoid some awkward conversations. Where's the downside?

There Might Be Something To That Latte-Sipping Liberal Thing

Years ago, Paul and I headed north to rural Iowa to meet up with some of his extended family for Christmas.  Shortly thereafter we realized we'd become acclimatized to city living.  Did you know there are still large swaths of this country where there's no place to purchase gasoline in the middle of the night?  (And even gas stations that don't accept credit cards?)  It's true.

(Of course it's true. I felt like an idiot for not considering - and planning for - this possibility. I lived in the middle of Kansas for eleven years so rural living shouldn't surprise me. But this was the same Iowa trip when I forgot to take my winter coat to Christmas since it was so nice and warm here. There were feet of snow on the ground in northern Iowa. I'm sure I made a great impression.)

I managed to forget all my lessons again on a roadtrip I took with Ada this week.  Partially I take for granted the conveniences of city living.  Partly I just figure that the rest of the country is adopting those conveniences at an impressive rate so why worry?

Why?  Because Ada and I ended up stopping somewhere in southern Indiana at a gas station that didn't even have a name posted.  The bathroom was disgusting.  And there was no fast food of any kind in town. But my GPS assured me there was nowhere else to stop for at least 35 miles.

There are a few places to replenish and rejuvenate between St. Louis and Louisville, but outside of the two metropolitan areas, it's helpful to schedule stops in Evansville or Mount Vernon.  Otherwise, the pickings are slim.

For the return trip, I prepared.  I mapped my route then asked Google to show me all the Starbucks along the way.  Pop poppoppopop pop.  Little dots popped up everywhere . . . in St. Louis and Louisville.  The only Starbucks en route were in Evansville, a 30-mile round trip from the interstate.  I do love my lattes, but not that much!

Fortunately, my unsophisticated palate can handle gas station coffee.  And we had a lovely dinner at a chain restaurant in Mount Vernon.  And I stocked up with a Venti off Bardstown before crossing the Ohio.

It's not "radical reform" but it's major

• If you are "high risk" or have a "preexisting condition," you will soon be able to buy health insurance.
• If you develop cancer or another health problem, your health insurance will no longer be able to drop your coverage because they don't want to pay for your treatment. (How was that allowed before?!)
• If you have develop an expensive problem, your insurance will no longer be able to stop paying for your medical care after you hit your annual or lifetime "cap."
• Kids can be covered under their parents' health insurance plans up to age 26 if they so choose.
• 32 million American who are not currently covered will be covered.
• Insurance companies will be held accountable so they can't come between patients and their doctors.

This is not government-run healthcare. It is regulation like we have in many other industries. Medical insurance companies must now follow certain ethical business practices. We ask the same of our food production companies, our car makers, our producers of high chairs and cribs. Why not of those who control our access to health: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness?

Thank you.

The President says:

"For the first time in our nation's history, Congress has passed comprehensive health care reform. America waited a hundred years and fought for decades to reach this moment. Tonight, thanks to you, we are finally here.

Consider the staggering scope of what you have just accomplished:

Because of you, every American will finally be guaranteed high quality, affordable health care coverage.

Every American will be covered under the toughest patient protections in history. Arbitrary premium hikes, insurance cancellations, and discrimination against pre-existing conditions will now be gone forever.

And we'll finally start reducing the cost of care -- creating millions of jobs, preventing families and businesses from plunging into bankruptcy, and removing over a trillion dollars of debt from the backs of our children.

But the victory that matters most tonight goes beyond the laws and far past the numbers.

It is the peace of mind enjoyed by every American, no longer one injury or illness away from catastrophe.

It is the workers and entrepreneurs who are now freed to pursue their slice of the American dream without fear of losing coverage or facing a crippling bill.

And it is the immeasurable joy of families in every part of this great nation, living happier, healthier lives together because they can finally receive the vital care they need.

This is what change looks like.

My gratitude tonight is profound. I am thankful for those in past generations whose heroic efforts brought this great goal within reach for our times. I am thankful for the members of Congress whose months of effort and brave votes made it possible to take this final step. But most of all, I am thankful for you.

This day is not the end of this journey. Much hard work remains, and we have a solemn responsibility to do it right. But we can face that work together with the confidence of those who have moved mountains.

Our journey began three years ago, driven by a shared belief that fundamental change is indeed still possible. We have worked hard together every day since to deliver on that belief.

We have shared moments of tremendous hope, and we've faced setbacks and doubt. We have all been forced to ask if our politics had simply become too polarized and too short-sighted to meet the pressing challenges of our time. This struggle became a test of whether the American people could still rally together when the cause was right -- and actually create the change we believe in.

Tonight, thanks to your mighty efforts, the answer is indisputable: Yes we can.

Thank you,

President Barack Obama"

Busy Weekend Ahead

I made a trip to Kinko's in preparation for a serious editing phase.

Hey, Mom, look what I did!

(My mom doesn't read my blog. Usually. I just mean that I think it looks cool to see four rough draft novels printed and bound for editing work. Of course I'd kill fewer trees if I could do all my editing on-screen. Alas. But at least I can read tiny type: two sheets per page, double-sided.)

My workspace:

Letter To My Trainer

Dear Wii Fit,

Please stop asking, "Too busy to work out yesterday, Sarahlynn?" when I step onto the machine.

Maybe I was too busy. Maybe my body doesn't like to work out seven days a week, three hundred sixty five days a year with no breaks. Or maybe I just went outside for a walk and didn't log on to input that data.

Right after your passive aggressive question, please quit admonishing me to "at least do a quick body test" when I'm "too busy" to work out. It's actually not healthy or constructive to weigh oneself every single day and I'm just not going to do that.

So if you could lay off the the nagging, that would be great.

And while we're at it, I'd like to request that you stop asking me if I want to "try again" or "quit" right after I finish a thirty minute run. It's not quitting to stop running after thirty minutes! It's "finishing." And quitting at thirty minutes leaves me plenty of energy to do other activities, like arm weights and ab-busting hula hoop.

Just so you know, your suggested weight for me is about 15 pounds below my target weight.  So I hope you don't get too insistent on having your way once we get there.

Still love you otherwise; thanks for all the great motivation, support, and especially those fabulous graphs.

--Sarahlynn

It's Not Black and White

As much as we might like it to be.

Souvenir

"I've got a bone to pick with you!" my mom said on the phone this afternoon.  "Do you remember a long time ago you gave me a bag of toys to donate? I left it in the back of my car and forgot about it for months and months.  Today I took it into the principal's office and dropped the whole thing into the treasure chest."

The treasure chest is for kids who get to choose special prizes.

"Later an email went out to the whole staff asking who dropped off the bag of booty.  There was something off in the tone of the email, but I replied letting her know that I'd left the toys.  She asked me to come down to the office so she could show me something."

Oh, no, I thought.  What on earth did I leave in that bag?!

Rewind two and a half years to our vacation in Scotland with my parents, sisters, brothers-in-law, and niece.  We spent our last full day in Edinburgh and I did some souvenir shopping along the Royal Mile like every other tourist in town.  At one shop, as I was buying a soccer (foot)ball covered with Scottish flags for Ellie, I noticed a hilarious little impulse item on the counter.  "What a fabulous gag gift," I thought.  "Maybe for the couple who are watching our dog."

After we got home it occurred to me that it was not an appropriate gift for anybody.  At some point I must have dropped it into a bag of things to take with me on a visit to my parents' house, thinking we could all get a laugh out of it.  And then forgotten it, because . . .

"What was in the bag of toys?" I asked my mom.

"A whisky flavored condom!"

Oh, no.

"Can you even imagine if some child had taken that home as his prize?  From elementary school?"

Fortunately, my mom's principal has a great sense of humor.  And checked the toys one-by-one before emptying my mom's bag into the treasure chest.

"She checked it out and warned me that it is indeed expired so is no good unless I want more grandchildren."

Ugh

I've gained about two pounds over the past seven days and am really looking forward to kicking myself back into gear with diet and exercise this week.

Last week we had a wonderful visit from my in-laws. I love my mother- and father-in-law. And I can't blame them for my weight gain; sure there was extra food around but I didn't have to eat it!

We went out to eat four times in less than a week. So generous! So caloric. My MIL also brought a cooler of food (steaks, chicken), a huge bag of homemade scramble, two loaves of pumpkin bread, two types of scones, a few dozen muffins, a large tray of peanut butter chocolate bars, and a delicious coffee cake.

What can I say? She says "I love you" with food; so do I.

And tonight we attended a dessert auction fundraiser.

All in all, I think gaining only two pounds can be considered a success!

Besides, my "skinny jeans" from a couple of months ago are slipping on and off without me touching the zipper or button. This is a nice, if expensive, problem to have.

Unfortunately, I can't really brag about it because now I really wear the size I've been telling people I wear. Similarly I can't brag too much about my weight loss because I weigh what my driver's license says I weigh. Time for updated lies, I guess!

(Photo from PleaseEnjoy.com)

Mud

Writing Process

A few years ago, I attended the Summer Writer's Institute in Creative Nonfiction at Washington University.  It was a fabulous experience: motivational, encouraging, friendship-forming, and very educational.  In addition to being a writer of beautiful prose, Kathleen Finneran is one of the best teachers - and editors - I've ever had.

Every night, she gave the class a short writing assignment.  They were a lot of fun, but best of all was receiving feedback on my writing every single day!  "You are a natural essayist," she wrote on one of my pieces toward the end of the program.  Until she said that, I had no idea that what I was writing were personal essays.  This opened up a whole new world for me.

Recently I saw a call for submissions posted on a blog I follow.

It sparked an idea in me that I developed in the shower one morning.

Still dripping, I ran to the computer and typed up a quick draft.

Over the next few days I read the samples linked from the website and I realized that I'd gone in a different direction.

So I sat down with my essay and - over the next two drafts - cleaned up the prose, pared it back, and tweaked it to fit more with what the editor was looking for.

Then, shortly after midnight on the deadline, I submitted my essay.

I woke at 6:00 the next morning to find my rejection letter waiting for me - quickest rejection ever!

But it was a nice one, which I certainly appreciate.

It reads, in part:

Thank you for your submission for [redacted].

I enjoyed reading it, but in the end, decided not to choose it for publication.

It was one of the best submissions I received, though, and I encourage you to submit it elsewhere.

 

I'll take that.  And one of the most important characteristics of a writer, I'm told, is the ability to be motivated by rejection.