What Form Rejection Means to Me

Our friend the Rejectionist has done it again. She gave her minions an essay topic, and, as a good lemming, I follow directions. Behold, my essay:

What Form Rejection Means to Me
an essay by Lucy Woodhull

In considering the question at hand, it is important to understand what a form rejection is. Let us dissect the phrase "form rejection." First, we have "form," from the Latin "impersonalus," which has the double meaning of, "piss off, fuckwit" and "don't quittus your day jobbus." Next, "rejection," which derives from the Old English word "crusheth," specifically in relation to dreams. As we can learn from this etymology, a form rejection is one person's way of stomping upon the lofty dreams of another, often with great and resounding malice mixed with a dash of fun.

Upon reflection, I have reflected that form rejections suck. How can we, as writers, foil them? I have developed a multi-tiered approach for the obliteration of form rejections:

1. Don't send one to me.

Awesome, huh? I don't give a crap about the rest of you unwashed masses who probably should just resign yourself to being waiters for the rest of your life. But I have TALENT! GREAT AND LITERARY TALENT. This essay is about what form rejections mean to me... I don't care about the rest of you.

I shall direct the rest of my deranged tirade brilliant thoughts to the agents/ editors of the world and explain why I should never, ever get a form rejection.

A. I am awesome. Here's a chart outlining why, in case you don't already know.

Why Lucy is Da Bomb:

B. My book will totes make you four million American dollars, at least.

C: I'm excellent with the grammar and shit. You'll bearley have to edit my brilliant prose.

D. I can wiggle my ears.

E. I should never really get a rejection at all. If you send me back a letter that's not an immediate contract offer, it should read something like "Lucy, this book is so wonderful. Is it possible for you to fit even MORE wonderfulness into it?" and I will be all "Of course, smart and esteemed agent/editor! My Tank of Wonderfulness will never be empty."

In conclusion, I would like to compare my literary style to J.K. Rowling, Ernest Hemingway, Muriel Hemingway, and Oprah. I will outsell Stephenie Meyers, and the dudes who wrote the Bible. In interviews, I will be wittier than Jon Stewart, and prettier than Angelina Jolie. The movies made from my books will be fawned over by the likes of Roger Ebert, the Academy, and The Denver Post. When you sign me with your agency/ publishing house, you'll surely be given impromptu awards from your colleagues with titles like "Agent of the Epoch," or "Sexy Publishing Badass." You will own a yacht and two helicopters. It is highly likely that you will be elected "Emperor of the Earth." I guarantee all these things!

So, what do these insightful words mean? "What Form Rejection means to Me" is exactly nothing. I reject the notion.

I also reject a large portion of your "reality," which is obviously rigged.

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(I hope this goes without saying, but I would like to note that the above is a joke. I have nothing but respect for the agents/ editors/ other writers of the world. Please send me not only one form rejection, but many, over and over again!)