A few days ago, I sent off a submission to Popshot, whose current issue I recently ordered direct from the UK and liked a whole lot. Against my better judgment, two of the three poems I sent them were the two I’d drafted just a week before—probably not smart, but I’d edited both of them extensively in that week and felt really good about them, so I went for it.

I got the rejection today, just four days later. Normally I’m pretty good at rolling with the rejections, but I admit, this one stings. This wasn’t a blind submission; I’ve read this magazine, I really connected with it, and I honestly thought its aesthetics matched mine to an unprecedented degree. Two of the three poems I sent them I actually wrote with Popshot in mind. There’s no playing the “I guess it just wasn’t right for them” card. The work just wasn’t good enough.

So now I guess I just wait for their next reading period to open in December and send stuff again. I wish I knew what theme they’ll use so I could start working on it now. There hasn’t been a journal I’ve wanted so much to be part of since... well, maybe ever.

But in the meantime, I suppose I just get back to work on other things.