Remember the movie, Groundhog Day--one day just plays over and over again forever.  Writers face groundhog days of their own, it seems to me--or at least some of us do.  Maybe most, but certainly some.

Our groundhogs aren't furry or cute--they're snarling monsters attacking our dreams and interrupting our sanity.  Formal, often, and able to take the form of innocuous letters or e-mails, our groundhogs are rejections--and they play over and over in our minds for--what, forever?  I don't know yet, since my forever hasn't quite arrived.

Another rejection came though, snarling into my happiness over finding some old Diego Verdaguer and Waylon Jennings tracks. 

This was a "good" rejection; my kids don't understand the difference, but writers do.  This was a ms. that I'd been asked to revise, did--and got a "no."

The no came with a complete edit by the author offering concrete steps she thought would make it salable, and kind remarks.

But it was still a rejection.

So, I'll lick my wounds.  Sit through the headache and heartache until I can move again.  Favor the story I started yesterday rather than the one I've spent months on.

But like all writers, I'll live through this rejection, too.  Eventually, the day will quit playing.  The groundhogs will go.

But tonight is February the second, and I'm not sure when the calendar will move on--just that it will.