The Hurt of Rejection

Last month, I received a rejection for a writing contest I’d entered. This, of course, is nothing new in an author’s life. But this particular rejection hit me harder than usual. Sure, I had other difficult things going on, and the rejection just added to the misery. But it was more than that.

What is it about rejection that hurts so much?

It’s not losing a contest or publication. We know those are tough to get. I knew, down deep, that rejection would be my constant companion, so it wasn’t as if I believed it would never happen. And I’m smart enough to realize that, if I keep at it, I’ll eventually win/get published.

Every time I submit something, despite the odds, I still have a spark of hope that this time will be different. This submission will be the one that finally works out. Most authors I know operate with that same hope. Why else would we keep trying? But, for me, this time the rejection extinguished that spark.

I didn’t question the quality of my submission, I questioned my quality as a writer.

Reacting as I did, rejection can smother any hope you have in yourself. For many like me, writing is a personal thing. We pour our hearts out onto our pages, and creating stirs hope within us that someone, somewhere out there, might just understand where we are coming from. Someone might just see the twisted, weird, deep, or unlikeable parts of ourselves in the story, and say, “I thought I was the only one.” We want that connection. Isn’t that what everyone wants? To know and be known?

But, the rejection comes and it is a giant slap in the face. We forget that they are reviewing our words and instead feel the dismissal of our voice, of that connection we threw out into the cosmic universe in hopes of someone commiserating. And, after one too many times experiencing that dismissal, we lose hope that we’ll ever be known. In turn, we question our writing. Maybe it won’t eventually pan out.

Our industry tells us rejection isn’t personal, and we scold ourselves because we are somehow less. Because, for us, it is completely personal.

Separating our work from ourselves is vital to a writer’s longevity. A rejection is not about you. It is about your work; the readiness of it, how well it works within a whole (journals), or if it fits stylistically with that editor/publication. Somehow, we as writers have to grasp this fact.

I’d like to say there’s a magic formula for realizing EVERY time the separation that exists between rejection of our work and rejection of ourselves. But if that were the case, I wouldn’t have wallowed away most of last month, eating cookies and contemplating the superior writing of a friend’s three-year-old.

So how do we move past what we perceive as personal rejection?

Here’s a few things that have helped me:

1. Surround yourself with people who believe in you. Not just in you as a writer, but you as a person. When you doubt yourself, their encouragement can snap you out of your gloom.

2. Keep a list of things you love about yourself. Give yourself a way to see your true self outside of writing.

3. Keep a list of things you do well when writing. Remind yourself of your talent.

4. Read something terrible. Sometimes seeing a book in print that has no business being in print is encouraging. If they could find their niche, so can you.

5. Read something that moves/inspires you. Feed your longing for beautiful language. It will make you want to create something equally beautiful.

6. Now, go write. The beauty of creating a story is that it fans the flame within you, and, before you know it, you believe in yourself – and your writing – again.

What helps you get over rejection? Share your tips in the comments below.

All Hail the Great Muse

I’ve been a creative long enough to know that inspiration comes and goes in waves. (Anyone else just read the end of that sentence to the tune of Greg Laswell’s Comes and Goes [In Waves]? But more on that later…) One day, I’m consumed with too many ideas for stories or paintings. The next, I’m curled in a ball on my couch, eating cookie dough ice cream from the tub and crying because the women of The Real Desperate House Wives are cleverer than I. Okay, maybe that is a stretch. Especially since I have very little patience for reality TV. But you get my drift, right?

I’ve also been a creative long enough to know that, if you want to soften the waves, you have to douse them with a little fire. For me, nothing strokes my creative fire like other creatives.

I’ve sparked an idea for a story from watching movies, seeing paintings, reading other books, enjoying really great food, even through the wonder of a beautiful sunset. But the most consistent source of inspiration, for me, is in music.

What is it about a song that can overwhelm you? There are some treasured favorites that bring me to tears. Every. Single. Time. Even though I listen to them frequently. Others catch my breath with their peacefulness or hope.

A simple search on the web will give you endless articles about the effect of music on humans. Some, like this article, link it to a primal need we had to communicate before language existed. Whatever the case, there is something about a melody that connects with us.

What music inspires you?

My favorites, truthfully, vary according to mood. But there is something about Claude Debussy’s Claire de Lune, the haunting trumpet wail of Miles Davis, the poetic lyric of Passenger, the realness of Gang of Youths, the instrumentation of Cody Fry, the creativity of Conan Gray, or the raw emotion of Johnny Cash that make me want to rise to their level of creativity. They get my fingers typing, and the plots reveal themselves.

You've Got This

I once experienced an interesting phenomenon. After working diligently for over a year towards one of my goals, I crashed hard. I only had weeks left, but my will power was non-existent. Rather than put in the work, I wanted to marathon watch sitcoms or sleep like a bear in hibernation. The longer I festered in this place, too, the harder it became to pull myself out.

Because guilt sprang up to remind me of my shortcomings.

If you, too, find yourself battling to right your sinking ship of motivation, it is helpful to remember to:

• Forgive Yourself. No one is perfect. No one. No, not even her/him (you know who I am talking about). Everyone has fallen short of expectations, including their own. Because, somewhere deep inside, we all think we can perform superhuman feats within a very human body. Then, we get tired, or our kid gets sick and needs our attention, or that job we were hoping to land falls through. But, rather than adjust, we keep plowing forward, thinking we can still accomplish the outlandish things we couldn’t even do without life butting in. So, when falling short of aspirations, forgive yourself, because you, my friend, are human.
   

• Remind yourself of your wonderful qualities. Guilt has a way of dragging us through the mud until we no longer recognize ourselves. When this happens, we begin to believe lies. Take a moment and focus on the truth. What do you love about you? What do others love about you? There is good in every person, so keep wiping away the mud until you find the treasure.
   

• Get back on the horse. Don’t give up after a setback. Setbacks may make your goals take longer, but if you get back to work, you will eventually attain them. But you are guaranteed to miss them if you don’t even try. Take the clean slate your setback created and see it as possibility, instead of challenge. Whatever it is you are aiming for, fill in this sentence: “Today is a great day to ___________.” Today is a great day to write another chapter on my book. Today is a great day to finish that painting. Today is a great day to polish my website. Today is a great day to try out that MeetUp. Today is a great day to get back onto that horse and charge on toward the finish.

What tips and advice do you have for the uninspired, tired, or motivationally challenged? 

Fodder of Life

Life. It is its own person, interacting with you in a diverse spectrum of emotional ways. It comforts, it replenishes, it annoys, it devastates. It beats you down and lifts you up.

This has never been more true for me than the past couple of weeks.

Recently, I accomplished one of my life-long dreams. I’m an avid learner, but have had an uphill battle finishing my degree. It’s not because I’ve had difficulty with the material. It was a lack of vision as to what degree to get. Because of horrible advice early on, I stumbled around avoiding the arts, and dually missing my passion. I’m ashamed of how long it’s taken to gain clarity. Don’t get me wrong; all those wrong turns have sculpted me and taught me. But how I wish that could have happened while I was also doing what I love.

On October 17th, though, I turned in my final assignment, and became the first person in my family to ever finish a four-year degree. In that moment, Life threw me up into the air like a father with his child, and I was giddy, weightless, slightly terrified but in awe.

A few days later, Life smacked me into the ground. Not just knocked me out of the air; Life threw me onto the pavement like The Hulk with Loki, then ground its heel into my temple. Migraines raged and made movement challenging, let alone functioning within my little world. All the while, members of my family and co-workers were bogged down with colds and fevers, and I was desperately fighting from getting caught up in the germy fun.  

In the midst of all this, I’ve been contemplating what I write. It is a common expression for aspiring authors to hear “write what you know.” Virginia Woolf takes it even further, saying, “Every secret of a writer’s soul, every experience of his life, every quality of his mind, is written large in his works.” So, I’ve been asking myself, what have these weeks of roller coaster Life deposited into my soul, crafted into my experience?  

Everything is fodder for creativity. Every experience is offered up upon the alter of creativity by Life, and awaits our interpretation and transformation.

The moment of hitting “submit” on that final paper and the weight of stress, strapped onto my shoulders like a two-ton backpack, rolling off. The intense pressure pounding into my brow with pinpoint accuracy and unrelenting fervor. The moment after the elation wears off, and the mundane returns, leaving the postpartum melancholy. Or the sweet release of pain when I open my eyes and the brilliance of day no longer burns but cheers. All these Life moments are the building blocks of great stories. They are fodder for my fiction.

What fodder has Life given you lately?