That's it, no more. You've had it with rejection letters, it's time to stop this nonsense and think about the future. There was no way this was ever going to be more than a hobby and someone has to pay the bills. Get the cardboard boxes out, put all your notebooks, manuscripts, reference books and tapes in them. Pack away the computer -
What was that?
Oh, OK, leave the computer it'll be useful when you want to grocery shop and compare road tax prices etc. Change the calenders from deadlines to school runs, after school clubs and don't forget that Conference in a couple of weeks time. Has your suit been dry-cleaned, more than your jobsworth if not. At least you can have meaningful conversations with colleagues about soft furnishings or the greenhouse instead of thinking of plot lines, characters and build up to a dramatic conclusion.
Your wife/husband will be thrilled to have you around in the evening, just as they got control of the remote too. Think of all those parties, dinners, cheese and wine events you'll be able to accept not to mention helping out the PTA and going down the pub with your mates. Did someone mention decorating?
Nip to Tesco's this very minute and stock up on all the 2 for £7 offers in the book isle without one moment of regret or bitterness for the embossed name of the author on the cover who signed a contract after only a few hundred rejections and as many sleepless nights before seeing the fruit of their labours come to pass, the dream realised in hardback glory. You did your best, no-one could ask for more.
And if that small voice inside does happen to lament and mourn the loss of creative impulse, silence them with a couple of beers, bottle of vodka, good wine/cheap wine, they won't know the difference...
Whatever it takes to anesthetize and smother the persistent grief stricken cry of abandoned self.