I wish I had a photo of myself "hoppin' mad" but then as a supposed writer, I should let my words do the talking. Not a photo or a copyright-infringed internet photo.
I'm easing back into writing stuff, you see. Back to writing group next month, finish some stories, review some stuff I might consider submitting, that. So, I pulled up my trusty submission spreadsheet on google docs, which I hadn't opened since November and was surprised to see that there were three journals from which I'd not received a yea or nay reply. Huh. That was last summer, man! What gives? I checked one via their submission system. There was simple, the puny, tiny-ass font word: decline. Oh yeah, well, decline you too! Thanks for the rejection letter! Oh, right you Didn't. Send. One.
The other two journals were email submissions so I sent an email to each of these editors. I hope I'll hear back. Or find out the journal folded. Or something. But really, how rude. Look how much I'm using italics, for Christ's sake. I told you I was hoppin' mad! Submitting and getting rejected isn't hard enough. Being ignored really...bites...er, stinks, er, gets my goat! You can keep that damn goat, too Plain Spoke, Watchword and Indiana Review. That's right, I'm naming names. I'm not afraid.
You want some o' this?