Dear Boy/employer/friend/literary agent/publishers who has rejected me: I'm still here. Even though your "No" and "not quite right" and even "no, thank you" cut me straight to the core, I'm still here. I'm a writer and I love words. But I grew to hate this one: unfortunately. I blame that on you, on your ruthless use of the word at the beginning of every response you gave. "Unfortunately". A word I learned to dread, a word I would instantly look for in "re" emails where I recognised the subject matter as one I myself had written. It became familiar; a hated friend that would let me know that I was crap. Once again. I hadn't made the cut; I wasn't good enough. This too shall pass, this I know for sure. But for now, I'm still standing. Just.