This is another one of those cases where Young Barry (Barry Lad?) was incapable of seeing the bright side of a rejection:
I remember this rejection very well, mainly because I remember the project I submitted so well. It was a very grim-n-gritty comic book mini-series (hey, it was the eighties!) that I’d developed in my later years of high school. I polished it up my freshman year at college and finally submitted it to Comico sometime between my freshman and sophomore years. It was, obviously, turned down. I still like the idea, but, yeah, it wasn’t ready for prime time.
(The series, BTW, was titled Blade. Being a DC kid, I had no idea there was already a Marvel character with that name.)
In case you can’t read the personal note appended at the bottom, it reads:
Barry–There’s a lot I like about “Blade.” It appears to me, though, that you are building a castle on a weak foundation with your use of the rather stale schizophrenia scenario. Very good start on the whole.
I can look at that rejection letter and its note now and see a lot of promise. If I got a note like that today, I would re-examine my original pitch, look for places where I could clear up the misapprehension that what I intended to be akin to demonic possession came across like schizophrenia, and probably re-submit.
But at the time, all I could see was a form letter rejection and a note that “totally missed my point, man!”
Once again, I was ignoring good advice and a helping hand. Truly, those of you reading this series who are on the journey to publication, if you take away anything from it, take this: Don’t be the blind, self-righteous guy I was! When you get a rejection with some personal content in it, treasure that, examine it, learn from it.
Oh, and also: I love that the letter starts “Dear Creator.” Makes me feel Godlike.