Milestone: First Rejection

I got my very first rejection letter today.

This is a new experience. I've been rejected before, for other jobs and whatever, but this was the first fiction story I've submitted to anything. Hence the first rejection letter I've ever received.

It was a simple, two line email that I made the mistake of reading before I was fully prepared to deal with anything today. [read: before I was properly caffeinated.] My initial reaction was to cry and to ostrich myself away forever. I didn't do either of those. My second reaction was to begin drinking immediately. But there was no alcohol in the house. I have since purchased some beer but have not started drinking yet, as I don't really feel the need to drown my sorrows with alcohol anymore.

I started to think about what this rejection means for me.

Well, first off, it means that I wasn't what the publisher was looking for. And that's okay. This was a short story that I had put an amazing effort into and yes, I'm pretty proud of how it turned out. I am smitten with my own ending. Definitely not something that I usually write, so that's a plus.

Secondly, it means that this story now has several options.

I could edit a bit more and submit it elsewhere, I could add more to the story and make it an actual novel (or novella if I'm feeling lazy) and submit it elsewhere, considering that it's a zombie story, I could probably get it cleared by ZT and have it printed in several instalments in the magazine, I could publish it on my blog for free reading...

The possibilities are not limited to what a single publisher is looking for. I am really only limited by my own time and imagination and drive to actually work on this story.

And that's all right, too.

I have a bunch of other projects on the go. Some are writing projects, some are personal projects, some are crafts, some are gifts... I'm really just limited by my own personal priorities and promises.

So now that I can look at this rejection with a clear head, and a more reasonable amount of caffeine in my bloodstream, what am I getting out of it?

Well, for one, I'm a little less cocky about it today. I went into submitting this story with full on confidence. I was utterly convinced that I was gonna get accepted and this would be my first official story published. My ego has taken a beating today and it's making me seriously reconsider my other works. Maybe I need a little more fine-tuning? Maybe I need to be more creative? Maybe I need to streamline my work? (I dunno how that last one is possible. I write screenplays that have no unnecessary scenes because I'm so to-the-point!)

I also realized that inflating my ego and being cocky is awesome. It makes the period of mourning about rejection a lot less brutal than it could be. I mean, I'm not crying. I'm not drunk. I'm sitting at my computer and I'm about to get back to work on another project while I decide what to do about this one. Being as cocky as I get means that the rejection hits hard, but I can bounce back pretty easily. It could be a lot worse. I don't deal with rejection well. You should see me when I get dumped. That's a horrible sight.

And is also a little bit off topic.

It means that I know that I can handle a rejection without spiralling into despair and madness (any more than I already am, anyway.)

It means that I have a story that could theoretically be submitted elsewhere and is fine tuned enough that I'm comfortable sending it out.

The point is that I have made peace with the rejection, understand that there are other fish int he sea, so to speak. I'm not angry, it's part of the game, and this is a game that I plan to keep playing for a long time. Writing is my craft and is going to be my full-time job. This story just wasn't meant to be the kick start I needed. And that's cool, too.

I dunno why I was rejected. I just wasn't what they were looking for this time.

But that's awesome, right? Because now I know that there are worse things than being rejected.

Why I hate Children

WARNING: This is a rant. I am pretty mad right now. I am planning to cuss in this one. You've been warned.

All right, so it's not really children that I hate. I can deal with them in small amounts, and usually the children I (am forced to) socialize with are relatively well-behaved.

It's the PARENTS who I wish to destroy in all forms of violent and gratuitous manners.

I went to see Brave tonight with my sister. (She is my youngest sister and is 15.) What a great movie! It would have been more than great but we decided to go on a Tuesday night. At 7:15. AND THE THEATRE WAS FILLED WITH CHILDREN UNDER THE AGE OF 5.

Who the ever-lovin' fuck takes their toddlers out to a movie at 7 on a Tuesday night?

Obviously every douchebaggy parent in the city.

I was perfectly willing to accept the fact that there were children in the theatre. I wasn't sure what to expect from another Disney-Pixar movie (except that it was guaranteed that I would cry at least once during the movie.) I certainly didn't expect there to be as many families with young children there as there were! A family with two very young children (I'm guessing that they were both under 4 years old and the younger of the two was 18 months) sat in front of us.

I didn't swear about that fact, the baby was really adorable.

Until about 30 minutes into the movie when this kid wouldn't stop fussing and crying.

Now, this is a 2-parent family. Mom and Dad were both sitting there, with both kids and one of them was screaming and crying. Well, Mom was an obese woman and she didn't do a damn thing. She didn't get off her fat ass and take care of this crying kid. No, instead, she loudly told her (husband?) to take the kid out of the theatre after he had been crying for TEN FUCKING MINUTES.

Ten minutes?? Really? You couldn't get off your ass to take your screaming kid out of the theatre so that you didn't disturb anyone else? And then you make your male-thing take the screaming child outside? You lazy bitch.

Here's the kicker to this story: THE DAD COMES BACK ABOUT 10 MINUTES LATER AND SAYS THAT HE CAN'T CALM THE KID DOWN!!

So now we're treated to the Dad loudly insisting that the kid won't calm down, the kid is STILL FUCKING CRYING and I can't hear the whispers of the Scottish characters on the screen because of the bullshit caterwauling this damn kid is making.

I don't go out a lot. I don't have a huge budget for going out and I usually spend what little extra money I have on books or sometimes on meals out with friends or on beer. When I DO get to go out, it's a huge deal and a real treat for me. So to have the first movie that I've seen in theatres since Toy Story 3 (we saw the Avengers in theares, but that was a birthday party, so I don't really count it as a movie night because we budgeted for my birthday party to be a movie and dinner) ruined by a screaming child does not sit well with me.

I was about to say something but the kid finally shut up, so I was relieved of that duty, thankfully.

But this same lazy bitch is such a terrible parent that when we were getting up to leave the theatre (well, when THEY were) she just stood there and yelled at her children until they listened to her. She didn't try to be polite, she didn't try to be a good parent. Hell, she wasn't even responsible. She just stood there yelling at her hyper, screaming toddlers as other people were trying to leave.

Fuck it, not my problem.

When the credits finished (because almost every movie has a little scene of awesome after the credits nowadays, and Brave was no exception) we got up and all had to go to the bathroom. So my sister and I head into the ladies room.

Lo and behold, there is a Cineplex staff member using the washroom. She obviously wasn't on a break as she was trying her damnedest to hustle out of the bathroom after washing her hands but no. Some dumb blonde bitch of a mother (wearing booty shorts and toting two children, again probably both under the age of 4) starts harassing this poor girl!

"Don't you clean these bathrooms? You should talk to your manager! These counters are all wet and small children get soaked when we have to wash their hands! I'm going to speak to your manager about this! Why can't you people wipe this up?"

Fuck's sake, you stupid blonde bimbo! Why don't YOU wipe the fucking water up if it's such a problem? Or, you know, if you were a better parent you would hold your kid up to the sink in a manner that wouldn't get them wet in the first place.

Most public washrooms that don't have doors (like at most malls here, and almost all the theatres) don't have paper towels anymore. Waste reduction and blah blah blah. So how the fuck do you expect anyone to wipe the counters every five fucking minutes?

And this poor girl was just trying to pee and wash her hands so that she could get back to work. There's no need for you to hassle her! Fuck.

I don't understand why these young mothers think that they are so entitled to whatever the fuck they want. Oh good for you, you had unprotected sex and now you have reproduced. Fuck you. Do you want a fucking cookie? ANYONE can have a goddamn child. It's not that difficult to procreate. Why the fuck are you so self-entitled? Why are you such a goddamn prick?

And why the fuck are you so inconsiderate towards everyone else around you?

Y'know what? Fuck it. I don't want to know.

What I WANT is for all of these self-entitled bitches to fuck right off and crawl back into whatever fucking suburb they crawled out of because frankly? I don't give a shit about you. I don't give a shit about your children. You're the inconsiderate bitch who is ruining my movie-date. You're the self-entitled prick who blames everything on everyone else.

You're not a special goddamn snowflake just 'cause you squeezed out another living being from between your flabby, self-righteous thighs. You haven't birthed the next King Arthur.

You're just another sad sack of a human being, a waste of skin filled with hot air and bullshit and honestly, you don't deserve to have these kids in public.

So kindly crawl back into your rich, white-privilege, suburb-friendly, penis envying, gas guzzling car and let me at least have my one night out to myself without wanting to set the zombie apocalypse loose on the cinema and then rampage and kill you first.

Shit, there's definitely a reason why I prefer books over movies.

Kai Kiriyama is a self-righteous bitch in her own right. While she doesn't have kids of her own, she's  taken her  younger siblings out to movies when they were kids and not a blessed one of them was misbehaved.

Also, she regrets nothing.

Email her at thekiriyamaheir@gmail.com if you wanna complain.
And follow her on Twitter: @thekiriyamaheir

She welcomes the backlash.

Funeral for Cornelius

As you enter, please listen to this song for your consideration and take your seats to the funeral.

Dropkick Muprhys "Amazing Grace"

Thank you all for coming. We are here today to mourn the passing of Cornelius Allen, a beloved pet fish. He has left us here in the mortal world, and has been taken home by Poseidon, the father of the Seas. We come here today to mourn and to rejoice that the Father of the Seas has called his son home.

Please rise for the first song of mourning.
Nothing Else Matters

You may be seated.

Our Lord Poseidon, god of the Seas and protector of all those who dwell within, has called this young son home for the final time. We are left today to mourn the loss of our beloved fishy friend, Cornelius. We all rest assured that he is in the arms of our Lord, Poseidon, god of the Seas, and that he is indeed in a better place. We mark his passing with tears, but fear not, for though his mortal form has been presented to the porcelain gods, we know that Lord Poseidon will care for him, and that he will not be cast down into Davy Jones' Locker.

We now play the song that Cornelius' owner requested be played to mourn his passing.
By request: Night on Bald Mountain

Please be seated, as Kai Kiriyama will give the eulogy.

"Cornelius was a beloved pet fish.

He was a good fish. He was a very pretty fish. He was a betta, and, as bettas are wont to do, he was born with the most beautiful shades of blue and purple that I have ever been blessed to see upon a fish.

Cornelius lived a simple life, swimming aimlessly in his bowl in the kitchen. He slept in between the spiky leaves of his plastic plant, and he ate dried fish flakes with joy. He was larger than his dearly departed brother, Igor, and though they were in separate bowls, when they did see one another, Cornelius would flare out his neck frills and scare his brother off.

Cornelius seemed to always be looking for love, his tank was almost always rimmed with bubble nests he would spend hours creating to attract a mate, and though he died alone without ever finding a soul mate, he never once complained. And he never cursed the cruel hand of fate that brought him to live in the tank in the kitchen.

It was a shock, to be honest, that he passed on so suddenly. He showed no signs of sickness, and was just making bubble nests a few days ago.

But he is gone, and he went peacefully. As peacefully as one can expect from a fish dying so suddenly.

So now we are left to mourn his passing. As we do, we now commit his body to the porcelain gods, that his corporeal form may be spared the harsh disgusting reality of rotting in the trash. We bury him now amongst the porcelain gods, and we pray that he might find solace in the afterlife.

As the waters surrounding his burial take his lifeless, empty body away, we weep and ask that Poseidon takes his little fishy soul to the gates of fish heaven. We send our supplications and prayers that Cornelius will be born again in the crystal waters of Poseidon's rice paddies and that he may finally find peace and love amongst his dead fishy brethren."

And now, we pray.


Oh Lord Poseidon, also called Neptune,
We pray to you, wise ruler of the seas and all the creatures that swell within.
Please see our sorrow for the passing of your son, [Cornelius].
Look upon us mortals and give us your peace.
And as we so send the earthly remains of your son [Cornelius] to the watery grave of the Porcelain gods,
We pray that you will find his fishy soul and welcome him home to your palace in the heavens.
Give [Cornelius] a place amongst your kin,
And take him home to his heavenly court, and not to be damned in Davy Jones' Locker.
Wise Lord Poseidon, we beseech you.
Fishes to fishes, rust to rust.
Amen.

As you leave, this song begins to play, to remind you to go on living.
Going Out In Style

Kai Kiriyama is still alive in the YYC area, living with her pet hedgehog, Odin, and her snake, Rhaegar. She has not had enough sleep, or caffeine to make up for this blog entry.
You can find her (most of the time) sitting in her office behind her laptop and pretending to write.
If you have a eulogy you need to give, but would like her to write for you, contact Kai in one of the following ways:
Tweet to Kai: @thekiriyamaheir
Facebook: Kai Kiriyama on Facebook 
Or to talk to her in more than 140 characters, email her: thekiriyamaheir@gmail.com