Run Fox Run

For about 10 years now I’ve been sending my short stories and novels out to various editors, agents, and other arbiters. Sometimes my self-addressed stamped envelopes come back with happy notes saying Yes, you’ll be featured in the Spring Two Years from Now Issue, and your payment will be two free(!) copies of said issue. But much, much, much more often I get Dear Author, Despite the evident merit of your work…no. I have passed through a hierarchy of rejections and have received some very, very, nice nos. My mother does not quite buy it when I tell her the rejections are getting better, but such is life. If their letters are to be believed, I have caused several literary agents to lose a LOT of sleep over whether to represent my novels. Sorry, agents.

All of this is to say that I am accustomed to being rejected. I have (mostly) learned not to take it personally, to take editors at their word when they remind me how subjective such things are, and to stop thinking about the terrible question: if you’re so good at this, and it’s such a good use of your energies, why isn’t your book on the shelves at my local Borders?

Today, however, rejection came at me from an unexpected place. The New Jersey Motor Vehicle Commission does not make it easy to love them. With the six-point system required to prove your identity and eligibility for a NJ driver’s license, with rules inconsistently applied by differing personnel, it can take several increasingly emotional trips to the DMV to finally become licensed. But the MVC and I made it through those tough times, and I thought they’d made us stronger. Instead, two years later, thanks to a small crack on the far passenger side of my windshield, I have been issued a bright red emblem of my failure, once again, to gain that coveted acceptance.

Thankfully I’ve got two best pals with whom to spend a rainy day at the Crayola Factory, making personalized crowns and windsocks and other crayola-related projects. Otherwise, this could really get a person down.