Yes, this rejection letter went up on the fridge.
It came in the mail yesterday, from Crab Orchard Review.
I sent in my submission back in the dinosaur days when I still bought stamps, oh, 250 days ago. (note to self: buy stamps again)
The first sentence: "Though your poems weren't selected for publication" and I stopped reading there, folded up the paper, and set it down near the trashcan. I didn't need to read the rest, I didn't get in... what else matters?
Well, a few hours later, after I'd "gotten over it" and perhaps cracked open a certain beverage, I returned to the letter and proceeded to read it in its entirity. Afterall, I had met the editor, Allison Joseph, at West Chester a few months ago. If I loved her poetry and personality, maybe her rejection letters aren't all that bad.
Turns out, its a personal rejection, encouraging me to submit again, and letting me know that I made it to the final round of consideration (hence, the 250 day wait for a response, because it was in that ever illusive "maybe pile"). It also mentioned congrats on my recent pubs.
From a fantastic journal like COR, a tiered/personal rejection is something to celebrate. So celebrate I did, and put it up on my fridgie reminding me that I'm getting closer to where I want to be. I just have to keep chugga luggin'.