I. An appendage of my stepdaughter’s hand, pink as the…
Recently I was asked to talk about the experience of having one’s work rejected, so I began by listing highlights of such low points in my own writing life.
- The one from the high school teacher who said I couldn’t have written the poem I turned in so I must have plagiarized it.
- The one that got blown from the mailbox and frozen in the forsythia bush.
- The one that said “these poems appear to be held together with snot.” (I checked. They weren’t.)