A Fat Envelope, But Don't Hand Out the Bubbly

There was a fat envelope in my mailbox this afternoon. I rushed upstairs to open it only to discover a certain American review had returned all the pages of my story. And there was a tiny, I do mean tiny piece of paper, not even 2 inches by 2 inches tucked in the middle saying thanks but no thanks. I know I indicated in my submission letter that I sent a copy of my story and not the original. It's also the fourth rejection in two weeks (though two of the rejections were for the same story). So, I guess it's true - litmag editors are clearing their desks in preparation for the fall onslaught. And I guess it's also true, as the writer-in-residence said, that some writers paper their walls with rejections slips. That's a bit too masochistic to suit me. I've made a note in my story tracker and in my day book so I know I have to send the story out again, eventually. And now, I think I'm going to rip the slips into itty bitty pieces.