First rejection notice

Since I sent out my first packet of cartoons or columns the image I've held in my mind is that of Charlie Brown, sitting against his mailbox, waiting for a valentine.

As of this Friday, the picture I now have is of snoopy atop his doghouse, in front of his typewriter, reading a letter from a publisher rejecting his latest stab at the great American novel. "Dear sir,... Thank you for your recent submission... does not meet our needs at this time... cordially"

I would like to share it with you now, as sort of a badge of honor.

I mean no disrespect to the people at TMS by posting their letter here- and I certainly do hope that they will "keep me on their radar" (though since the returned my samples, I'm not sure how likely that is). As much as I enjoy fostering an image as a beleaguered, downtrodden victim of the corporate machine, I'm actually more proud of myself for trying than I am disappointed in the apparent failure.

On the one hand, I submitted to them first because my heroes as a teenager were columnist Mike Royko and cartoonist Jeff McNelly, both of the Chicago Tribune. Come to find out later, Royko spent a career loathing the Trib from his post at the Sun Times, and only came over to the Tribune when univerally reviled media mogul Rupert Murdoch (FOX) bought the Sun-Times.

On the other hand, I never thought I'd ever actually have the nerve to take a stab at this.
If nothing else, I can get my mother off my back, the next time she nags me about trying to make something of myself as a cartoonist or a writer. After all, I am a member of the most noble, most important, and most alturistic profession on earth- I teach. I may not be a full time professional cartoonist or writer, but hey- at least I'm not a lawyer, politician, or televangelist!