I have, if not often, at least occasionally received one of those lovely rejection letters that invite me to submit more. One of those little handwritten-by-the-editor honors that thrill the soul of any submitter. Duly invited, I readily respond. Not for me the “oh, no, they didn’t really mean it,” nor the “well, I don’t know that I have anything good enough,” nor the “well, perhaps I should wait a few months…or years.” But I have yet to be successful from these come-hither invitations. In fact, invariably the “more” that was invited gets merely a stock rejection — no little handwritten note at all. A bland “we can’t” or “not the right fit,” or whatever the other stock of trying-to-let-you-down-easy phrases. I don’t know what to conclude from this. What had lured them in the first round that left them cold in the second? What? What? I’m resisting the temptation to feel like the “invite more” response is actually bad luck. I’m resisting the temptation to think my work sucks. I am not saying that I’m bitter about these little turns of fortune. I am, as they say, just sayin’.