My First Big Literary Rejection

And some thoughts on the World Wide Web

Today I received my first real literary rejection, which was an email that said "I'll pass on this."

I've had a very unconventional, internet forward career as a writer so far, but I'm currently shopping around a memoir titled The American Princess Diet, about some very particular instances in my life through the lens of food, media, sex, and God.

I never expected to make any money from writing, which is one of the ways I stumbled into being an entrepreneur. But I don't think you should think about money too much, you should learn about it and try to be cautious and helpful, but you should seek out to do something really fulfilling with your life. And not fulfilling in the romantic sense, but fulfilling in the sense of making something that means something to people.

I started Hot Literati in my bedroom in Kansas, where I wasn't in a huge cultural hub and desperately wanted to talk about film and literature and philosophy with people, which is one of my favorite things about the internet. Communities around subjects and discussion.

That's another reason why I'm a pretty bad influencer. I don't really like being looked at all that much and I'd rather encourage people to read and write more than I'd encourage them to use my code at checkout, even though I do have a few codes at checkout if you want them.

Today I tried to go on a run and waded around puddles, and slick spots, and eventually just walked alongside everyone else because it wasn't worth the maneuvering to try to go any faster. The sun was out. It was nice.

Now, I'm sipping cinnamon tea and waiting on a woman from facebook market place to come pick up my old television for her daughter's birthday. I dismounted it myself. I've always thought I would be good on Task Rabbit, as I quite like assembling and disassembling furniture. We've made all of these apps that connect you with strangers for different purposes. To date. To hangout. To learn.

When I first moved into my apartment, I bought books and books and books on the weekend just to have something to do. I would identify with everything I read, in the park, in the bench across the street from my office during lunch, on the train. But something clicked in my head in the past few years about wanting more control over my attention and the thoughts I had.

Wanting to have more of myself in me, if that makes sense. Now as I get rid of stuff, it feels peaceful, because I've learned, as everyone learns at some point in their life, that everything in your life is other people. The work that you do is for other people. The time that spend with people that you love. Whatever Kant says about the end always being other people. It's easy to get rid of an old dress when you think about how much you miss your mother. Collecting stuff in the name of what?

I, like most people in the Western world, am trying to spend less time on Instagram. Left to my own devices, I could scroll through videos of Pekingese dogs in Japan and miniature horses for hours. But my personality is bigger than that and it's a strange feeling, like the Instagram algorithm is force-feeding you your latest obsession as it tries to compete with TikTok, who is now trying to sell you things you don't need, constantly.

The internet isn't bad. The internet is simply a series of web pages strung together by a network. Instagram is a series of Instagram pages strung together by a network. And networks are groups of things, and can you tell I just finished a book about algorithms?

Sometimes you just have to sit in your chair and let your eyes do full half moon styled survey of a room. Hannah and I did this together in a Hotel Bar in Edinburgh after her mother told us that it was a calming exercise earlier that day. It was nice.

Or you have to look at details or little movements like the way a curtain can somehow still sway in a still room.

To do anything exciting with your life, you are going to be rejected a few times. I lost a lot of pageants before I won one. I went through years of not getting the role I wanted in ballet, before getting to dance my dream role at seventeen. I got into Princeton and Yale, but I got waitlisted at Harvard. And then at Princeton, I got rejected from the only dance group I auditioned for.

I am proud of my first literary pass, because a no like that is a sign that I am trying.

xo

hailo