I got another rejection from the New Yorker today. There was a pleasant little note in the envelope though. Someone drew a line through the standard rejection "thanks but no thanks" bit and wrote something like "very nice work, but not what we're looking for". I've finally realized what unsuccessfully asking all those girls out in high school was preparing me for.
Anyway, that was annoying.
I wonder what the market's like for "cartoons that are very much written for the New Yorker but not quite fit to be published in the New Yorker". I'm hoping that it's great. Something tells me it might not be, but I'm struggling to be more optimistic.
Yesterday I got to pretend to be a lumberjack. I used an ax to turn a stump into a bunch of little bits of wood. Halfway through the job I resentfully accepted two facts, the first being that axing is difficult and the second that fireworks need to start pulling their weight in our society. Shortly thereafter I made another realization, which was that axes are not, but very likely should, be sold with an accompanying pair of gloves. I've gone through at least eight band-aids since yesterday. I feel like my hands were drawn by Frank Miller. On the upside, I can now add sustaining several ax injuries to the list of cool things I've done in my life.
So, glass is half full:
I now have almost thirty cartoons, that I think are pretty damn good. On top of that I don't have to worry about whether or not sending these cartoons to magazines that aren't the New Yorker is a missed opportunity, what with them already having been rejected.
