Rejection letter #1 arrived today. Or rather, rejection slip. Blue. Printed with the following: �Though the enclosed material has not worked out for MR, we thank you for thinking of us and hope you will find a place for your work. The Editors�

Also on the blue slip: a tiny handwritten �sorry.�

I was surprised by my initial reaction to this news. I�ve been anxiously checking my mail every day, knowing that I have many such slips to gather. I have absolutely zero hope of having any of my work published. This is merely an exercise. This is me trying to pretend that I have a plan. So. Collect rejection slips. That�s what writers do. But I found myself approaching the envelope with my returned poems and the blue slip enclosed with something close to dread. And embarrassment. I feel sorry for these hopelessly flawed poems. Poor dears. What were they thinking, asking to be read by the big bad poets of The Massachusetts Review?

I�m over all that now.

But that handwritten �sorry.� I mean, come on. Is there an undergraduate assistant whose internship requires her to personalize each rejection letter? And is such a piddly personalization more insulting than none at all? Yes indeed it is. I like my bad news straight up, thank you, much as I like my whisky.

I�m kidding of course.

I don�t drink hard alcohol.