From the Editor's Desk: Coping with Rejection

My Favorite Motivator

Photo by Adam Jaime on Unsplash

I’m trying to put myself out there again. I’ve been hiding for far too long. I’m so nervous about showing my true self, because what if they don’t like it? What if they say no?

Am I dating? Hell to the eff no. I’m sending my work out again.

I’ve read loads of thought-pieces on the idea of aiming for 100 rejections or other guidance that basically says you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. Yeah, I get it.

My submissions game has been slim to none in the past few years. The reason has partially been personal matters (divorce: the rejectioniest of rejections!) and partially been the fact that I’ve been working on a book. And in working on a book, I haven’t had time to churn out essays.

Recently, I’ve finally polished an essay enough to start sending it out and I’ve begun sending some chapters of my book to contests. And all I’ve gotten are rejections. Nice, curt rejections.

I know how this goes. I’m also the one who has to reject essays all the time for a journal.

Today, a rejection hit me in the gut. It was for a contest that I had only submitted to at the start of the month. That’s a fast turnaround, and I wonder if they only read the first page and decided no. Perhaps they have a slew of submissions to get through before a tight deadline. At any rate, another “no” in my inbox again.

Here’s my tried and true way for coping with rejections. It’s weird. It’s wild. Contradictory to the photo, it does not involve alcohol. Or chocolate. Or chocolate alcohol.

What do I do? I go back to the draft and keep working on it.

Insane, right?

But there’s something about a rejection that lights a fire under me. I feel like Salieri, ever envious of Mozart, getting back to composing thinking “I’ll show them.” And yeah, that might sound a tad hostile, but really, all I’m doing is showing up for myself. In doing so, I am committing to myself that I still can do this writing thing and I need to devote more time to it. I think about one of my favorite quotes from James Baldwin: “Talent is insignificant. I know a lot of talented ruins. Beyond talent lie all the usual words: discipline, love, luck, but, most of all, endurance.”

Endurance is at the heart of this. It’s getting back to the writing even when it feels like no one will want your work. It’s getting close to your characters, connecting to the voice on the page. It’s finding the joy in courageous revision, unearthing things you never dreamed of.

I mean what else am I going to do? Date?