Well, GFT Press doesn’t want the four poems I sent.
They zapped over the rejection letter the day before Thanksgiving. I guess they didn’t want me worrying about whether my work would be accepted during my holiday dinner, which very well could have given me indigestion.
It was a nice rejection letter, though. They even spelled my name right, which made me feel particularly friendly toward them.
They encouraged me to submit work in the future, and signed off with a “Best of luck!”
With an exclamation point, mind you. Like my dear Emily Dickinson and her wild and exuberant exclamation points.
Happy holiday, everyone.