_News: School starts next week._

Valued Reader, I'm trying. I'm trying really hard to not be the type of person who needs to talk about everything that happens to me professionally, whether it be good bad or just plain ugly. But, seriously, I just got an awesome rejection. I loved it. It was the best.

[context]

I said in my last post that I had gotten published for the first time. Yes, true, but that wasn't the first time I tried.
*takes a sip of coffee*
*stares meaningfully out at the world at large, contemplating the bigger mysteries of life*
Once, Reader Dearest, I was but a child. And as a child just growing into a practice that would become a passion, I thought what most my age thought. I was invincible. Nothing could touch me. What a fool I was. *but seriously* When I started high school I really started writing hardcore. I spent all my study halls in the library at the computer working on what would eventually become my first three written novels. Yes, Reader, I was working on a series. That series was called Scrapper: The Connection Reborn. That title, it should tell you what you need to know about that particular project. But wait, it gets better. It was a Young Adult Paranormal Romance birthed from the era of Twilight. As I said, what a fool I was.
If I were to honestly grade it now, being a somewhat more seasoned writer, I'd give myself a solid C. It wasn't terrible, it had it's interesting points. The cast was diverse and I somehow managed to avoid most cliches. All the same, the prose was horrendous and it had so many holes it may as well have been a Manitowoc County police investigation. (yesIcanbetopical) (alsoI'mneverlivinginwisconsin) (I'malsoreallyproudofmyselfforthatjoke). But anyway, none of this was the point.
So, here I am, with a finished novel by the end of freshman year. Already getting to work on the second. What do I do? I try to get it published of course. What else do you do with books, read them? That's for babies.
As you can imagine, I got many rejections. Many. 'Bout twenty if I'm not mistaken. To be fair to myself and the agents that passed, it was a good call. That book should not be published. But most of those rejects were out-and-out we-didn't-even-look-at-the-book slush pile rejections. Ones that were automated responses. Ones that replied to my pen name rather then my real one. (yesItriedtohaveapenname) (nowe'renotgoingtotalkaboutit).
So now, seven years or so later, I'm actually decent at writing. And I'm submitting. And I'm getting real responses back. Responses that say "yes we've really read your work and we like it but it's not for us" type so. So I wake up this morning and I find one such email in my inbox this morning. It says this.

Dear Nikki,

Thank you for sending "The Great Oak of Hypothetical Nowhere" to [redacted]. While we appreciate the opportunity to review your work, we will have to pass on this submission. The story is delightful, but it's not quite right for us.

We hope you find a good home for this story, and we look forward to seeing more of your work when we next open for submissions. Thanks for sharing this one. It's got great energy, and the character relationships are fantastic. I fell in love with Aggie instantly, and Eileen is just as charming.

Best,
[Really respectfully editor who deserves nice things]
Senior Editor

Look at that! They read it! They liked it! It just wasn't for them! They also asked to see more of my things! It's all right there! What more could you want from a rejection? I tell ya, this just makes my day. I feel like I'm hugging a puppy right that, that is where I'm at.

In other news, The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness is the new book love of my life. Props to Friend of the People Faith for recommending the book and Patrick Ness for not making me cry. Plus, Friend of the Nation Darby lent me a book called Madman and, no joke, someone stabbed it. It came in the mail with a stab mark. In the envelope too, so she says. One of the more interesting things that has happened to a book, or so I suppose. Finally, I haven't been on Geeks Under Grace in a while. That's on hold for now. Stay tuned, I'm not done making videos.

'Til next time nerds.

Ladies and Gentlemen, your attention PLEASE. I would like to inform all of you that I am no longer "theoretically" a writer. No, we opened up this box and after we scooped out the cat who had technically been dead for the entirety of Schrodinger's lecture we found a real life bonafide miracle. God is real.
_And in other news I am published.

First thing's first, click here and here and here and here and not here to read the Mr. Pascal's Funeral Parlor on Literally Stories' website where I am an author and have an author page which you can see by clicking here and here and it's dangerous to go alone click here.

Second order of business, GIFs.









I could go on, but that might not be safest for everyone.

Third, the story.

So all of my writing friends got to talking without out me there one day (not salty I swear) and they were like "hey wudn't b funni if we started 2 b pros w/o nikki" and I was like "not cool gais" so after they got some short work floating around I started thinking of submitting. Good thing about being in a creative writing program is that there's a sub-department dedicated to getting you out there with your face and your beautiful words. (There is literally an event where they press send on your submission email for you.) So I start workshoping some stuff with them and researching markets and while I was looking for completed stuff to submit I found this piece which is clearly a rip off of a Panic! At The Disco music video, which I wrote in high school, and I was like lol sure, never going to get published though. I send it in and they basically tell me it's ready to publish so I write my cover letter and draft the email and attach the work and then I'm like "...This could prolly use twenty more edits" and they were like "nah, it's done bro" and I press a dainty finger to their collective lips and said "shhhhhhh...."
One sunday morning of an indefinite amount of days after this occurred I talked to my mother about this conundrum. This is also the day that I learned that I have nausea-inducing publishing anxiety. Her advice to me was this. Worry about it tomorrow, today just relax and focus on Jesus. 
So of course I ignored her advice and went to tinker with the email. I changed a period to a coma and went to save it and then oops, pressed send.
_This, my friends, is how the Grinch stole Christmas.
Six days and three stress balls later and I receive this email while unloading a truck full of food with my father.