Time for the blog post I knew was coming. In fact, I probably could have written it a month ago.
I got an e-mail from my “dream” journal today that my manuscript (scientific, not fiction) didn’t suit their needs. Sad. I think the exact words were: “Thank you for your submission, and…. Rejected! Oh, yeah! Sick burn! Sincerely.…”
Actually, the chief reason for the rejection was that my sample size was too small, and some of my results were not significant. Small sample size? Maybe because cases are going undetected? Maybe because this is a neglected disease? And, it’s going to be neglected until people start hearing about it, because how can they hear about it when these articles get rejected from the big journals? Whew, feels good to get that off my chest! No more complaining. *cracks open a “Punkin” beer* On to the next journal!
But, don’t worry, I’m not the only one in my apartment dealing with a harsh rebuff. I’m the only person, sure, but inanimate objects can know the “sick burn” of rejection too. (Right? No? They can’t feel emotions? Oh.) Anyway, to the point, I brought home a cat tree last night expecting my two cats to be thrilled. At the door, I was greeted with large saucer eyes of terror. Apparently, I own the only two cats who are completely terrified of cat trees. When I got home from work today, I added a little catnip to spice up the deal. The younger one “enjoyed” her catnip, and I think is coming around to the tree, but the older one is still giving it the cold shoulder. He partook of his catnip and then proceeded to bite at everything in sight, focusing mainly on the other cat and my ankles. Maybe he just needs more time?
So, now that I’m getting into the fall spirit (yum, October beer), here’s a toast to rejection!
And here’s hoping I don’t spill this drink on my computer!