Summary

The author reflects on their evolving relationship with "The Post-Grad Survival Guide" (PGSG), a Medium publication, detailing initial attraction, repeated rejections, personal growth, and an enduring hope for acceptance.

Abstract

The content is an open letter from the author to "The Post-Grad Survival Guide" (PGSG), a publication on Medium. The author begins with a nostalgic recollection of their initial encounter with PGSG, feeling they were a perfect match due to shared interests in life, work, and freelancing. Despite the allure of PGSG's broad topics and aesthetic appeal, the author faced a series of story rejections, which initially were dismissed as part of a writer's journey. As rejections mounted, the author experienced personal growth by exploring other topics and publications, which helped build resilience and self-confidence. Nevertheless, the author remains drawn to PGSG, likening their persistent attempts at acceptance to a one-sided romance, and admits to still holding out hope for a positive response.

Opinions

The author initially saw PGSG as an ideal platform for their writing, suggesting a strong alignment with the publication's themes.
Repeated rejections from PGSG led to feelings of disappointment and a need for introspection and space.
Despite continuous rebuffs, the author displays resilience and a commitment to self-improvement, exploring a diverse range of writing topics.
The author's relationship with PGSG is characterized as a one-way affection, indicative of unrequited admiration.
The author maintains an optimistic outlook, hoping that PGSG will eventually accept their submissions.
The experience with PGSG has been formative for the author, contributing to their development as a writer beyond the scope of post-grad life.

OPEN LETTERS

An Open Letter To The Post-Grad Survival Guide

Dear PGSG (The Post-Grad Survival Guide),

When I first met you, I thought we would be soulmates.

Sure, I was a new and aspiring writer, tentatively dipping my toes into the world of Medium. And you were an established publication with over 40,000 followers. But we had so much in common.

You, who focus on life in the 20s and beyond.

I was in my 20s when I first met you. Thankfully, you conveniently have the “and beyond” in your slogan so that when the big 3–0 came and went, I felt like we could still work out.

You, with your focus on work, freelancing, money, and life advice.

With those broad mandates, I thought the world could fit between your arms. What possible writing topics could there be that don’t in some way, shape, or form fit in under those banners?

You, with your eye-catching blue banner and that silhouette of a graduation cap.

It reminds me of a time when I was a fresh-faced, doe-eyed new grad. Holding on to my freshly printed university degree as if it were the key to the world, and all the opportunities I could dream of were awaiting me.

I thought you were perfect for me.

But then reality hit. You rejected my stories time and time again.

When you rejected my first, second, and third stories, I thought to myself, “Well, I’m new to this world of writing. Everyone knows you don’t get your big break right away.”

When you rejected my fourth, fifth, and sixth stories, I told myself, “Maybe you’re coming on a bit strong. A bit of space might be good for both of us.”

When you rejected my seventh, eighth, and ninth stories, I coached myself in resilience and endured the #rejectioncity that every new writer must be ready to overcome.

When you rejected my tenth, eleventh, and twelfth stories, I needed to take some time to find myself. I convinced myself that I could live an exciting and fulfilling life without you.

I discovered other publications and learned to grow in ways beyond just post-grad life. I nurtured those first few fragile sparks till my self-confidence could bloom into beautiful, flickering flames. I even felt feelings of excitement and anticipation as I flirted my way through a wide array of topics from humor to philosophy, from capturing moments of nostalgia to becoming a voice for equality.

But you don’t forget your first love. That instantaneous feeling of fireworks. That chill of instant chemistry. That thrill of the chase.

So even though it’s mostly (okay … completely) been a one-way street, here I am again, swiping right on you hoping that one day, maybe today, you’ll swipe right on me too.

Yours Truly,

A Not-So-Secret Admirer

P.S. — Update: PGSG swiped left …