Okay, so in the last week I've received nine rejections. Nine. Not a record, alas (I think my record is ten), but enough that I'm feeling very grouchy and woe-is-me this morning. I mean, even Thaumatrope rejected a twitter story. It wasn't SF/F enough for them--which had me sputtering incoherently, since what's not SF/F enough about Sleeping Beauty getting wrapped up in vines that love her? I guess I didn't get the concept across well enough. The Price of Justice got rejected with a very good but very painful critique, and an invitation to revise and resub. I'm not sure if I want to keep going with that project; it sort of bores me now, and if I address all of the critique's issues and suggestions, it'll turn into a novel.
Thank gawd for Every Day Fiction, which actually sent an acceptance among all the sharp-and-pointy rejects. At least I know I do not suck 100%. Just 99%, or at least it seems that way this week.
Suck it up, me. At least you're getting responses.