Yesterday I discussed the endless rejection endemic to the humanities, how you learn to be thick-skinned about it, to never take it personally, to just sort of roll with the punches and find better reasons to do what you do than mere personal validation.
But then every so often you do get accepted--by total strangers no less!--and even if it ultimately amounts to just an extra line on your CV, even if it's just with a small college literary press out of South Carolina somewhere, it is wholly appropriate to let yourself feel good in those moments.
For what's this?
They were so kind as to publish a short story of mine called "Day of the Dead in English" (an early version of which once appeared on this self same silly blog here). It's based upon a newspaper internship I once had in Guadalajara, Mexico, and is my stab at Magical Realism. It is perhaps best read near November 1st (the actual Mexican dia de los muertos), but seeing as how death in general is in season all year round, Spring may be as good a time as any to remember how Spring ends.
I had previously published articles elsewhere before, (and had contributed in other places), but this was my first fiction published by bona fide strangers. And especially after this longest winter, it was just the coda I needed.
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