I received my first rejection letter as a writer when I was ten years old. My mother–my biggest fan–had submitted a poem I had written to a publishing company. They responded with the obligatory “no thanks” message on their company letterhead (I still have that letter). Undeterred, I continued to fill journals with my poems, quirky fiction stories, and diary entries about all my current crushes. In high school, I wrote articles for our newspaper, Tiger Rag, and was on the yearbook staff. To me, it was the equivalent of attaining the status of a world-renowned journalist. (Dream big, my friend, dream big…) The paper has yellowed with age but…