A Breath of Fresh Air
Feb. 13th, 2006 10:42 amI stepped outside this morning for a breath of fresh air. It wasn't my choice - I had to go to the supermarket to buy the makings of my lunch - but I ended up quite grateful for the experience. Who would have thought that simply walking across a near-deserted carpark at quarter to eight in the morning could have put me in such a positive frame of mind? There's just something about mornings: the freshness, the sense of promise, not to mention the general lack of people, crowds and the annoyance of work. The sun is rising, the air is clear and you could almost be the only person around for miles.
Even though I was enjoying the experience, I still wished I was walking across a paddock or down the street of a country town, rather than the carpark outside Safeway. How much more pleasant and inspiring would it have been to be surrounded by bush and grassland and the sound of birds, as opposed to asphalt and the sound of traffic passing by? You could almost say it was inspirational.
It's lucky I happened to be feeling so inspired, because my poor old nunnery story was rejected overnight. I'm amazed that it was so quick - amazed and grateful. It wasn't too bad a rejection. According to the two people who read it, the story had promise but it wasn't quite there. It might have been a short rejection, but it still managed to convey a wealth of constructive criticism and guidelines for future revisions. Thanks to my five minutes' exposure to the morning air, I'm full of ideas and enthusiasm about the story where I would normally have been moping around. I want to make it a little longer, to work on the ending (which was quite rightly judged to be too abrupt) and to choose one of the plots and stick with it, rather than overloading it with choice the way I have at present.
Who would have thought that one sentence in a rejection email could have inspired so many ideas for improvement?
Since it causes such a positive attitude towards failure, I'm thinking of taking up a habit of stepping outside every morning, even if it's just to poke my head outside and enjoy the fresh morning air. I fear a walk at this stage would be too much like effort.
Even though I was enjoying the experience, I still wished I was walking across a paddock or down the street of a country town, rather than the carpark outside Safeway. How much more pleasant and inspiring would it have been to be surrounded by bush and grassland and the sound of birds, as opposed to asphalt and the sound of traffic passing by? You could almost say it was inspirational.
It's lucky I happened to be feeling so inspired, because my poor old nunnery story was rejected overnight. I'm amazed that it was so quick - amazed and grateful. It wasn't too bad a rejection. According to the two people who read it, the story had promise but it wasn't quite there. It might have been a short rejection, but it still managed to convey a wealth of constructive criticism and guidelines for future revisions. Thanks to my five minutes' exposure to the morning air, I'm full of ideas and enthusiasm about the story where I would normally have been moping around. I want to make it a little longer, to work on the ending (which was quite rightly judged to be too abrupt) and to choose one of the plots and stick with it, rather than overloading it with choice the way I have at present.
Who would have thought that one sentence in a rejection email could have inspired so many ideas for improvement?
Since it causes such a positive attitude towards failure, I'm thinking of taking up a habit of stepping outside every morning, even if it's just to poke my head outside and enjoy the fresh morning air. I fear a walk at this stage would be too much like effort.
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