Inaccurate Humpty Dumpty (wearing belt rather than cravat)
To paraphrase Humpty Dumpty and end up saying something complete different: “How many rejection slips do you have plastered to your wall or stuck in a drawer under a pile of half-used post-it note pads?” (Your response, dear readers, the lot of you, according to my unscientific, highly questionable poll of visitors to this web site: Many, too many to count.)
“And many of your published books sit on a shelf in your home, and how many journals with your published short story lie on your coffee table?” (None. None at all.)
“Though I don’t have time to look through it thoroughly just now—this shows that there are an infinite (too many to count) instances when you might celebrate an unpublished day—” (Certainly.)
“And none, none at all to celebrate an unpublished day”
Many a writer celebrates the day they are published. At least, I suppose they do. I haven’t any practical experience to speak of, but I imagine what it must be like. Champagne is uncorked. Celebratory dinners ensue. Orgies. Fox hunts. That sort of thing. Why settle for no celebration at all, when you can have an infinite number? Humpty Dumpty’s logic, although applied to unbirthdays, is just as sound when applied to unpublished days. Even if you have been published, I’d wager that fewer days pass in the calendar year when you have published something new than not.
(If you have seen Disney’s Alice in Wonderland, you might think I am mistaken, that the Mad Hatter is responsible for unbirthdays; however, the Mad Hatter had nothing to say about unbirthdays in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland or Through the Looking Glass. It was Humpty in Through the Looking Glass.)