I
haven’t written anything for all my writing buds out there in quite a while. But
I thought some of you might appreciate this piece on rejection that I wrote for
an anthology on the subject. The editor rejected it. Ha! Let me know if it
resonates. There's some snark here.
Bummer
– Rejected Again
Okay,
I thought of a few, more coarse, words to use in the title instead of “bummer,”
but really do you need to have those in your head? You’ve probably said them
enough already and with force because – well – who the deuce likes rejection?
In addition, upon receiving the “u” word (unfortunately) from that editor last
week, you might have resorted to kicking things like Chevy Chase did in
Christmas Vacation when he got the one year subscription to the Jelly Club
notice instead of a fat bonus check from his boss. We’ve all kicked and cursed.
And then we settle down and feel sorry for ourselves and boo-hoo-hoo.
Snap
out of it. You are in such good company it’s ridiculous. I mean, think of all
the people who pick up the Bible, state that it’s “rubbish,” and give it a
toss. And the author is God for crying out loud. In the good book’s defense I
will say it took a long time to get it all between two covers, but you know
what that’s like, too, don’t you? Your hard spent hours are right up there with
the works of Moses and St. Paul, right? Sort of?
And
then there are those who tell you to go and read about all the famous Jack
London’s and that chick who wrote Harry Potter types who were rejected a
zillion times. Trouble is you would never have heard of them if they hadn’t
subsequently found a daring publisher and gone on to become more famous than
Julius Caesar. About as rich, too. Sorry, but those people’s advice stinks like
old coleslaw decaying behind the neighborhood deli.
So,
what do you do with that horrible, rancid, rejection you just got? First, you
go to the mirror and ask yourself if you really, really want to be a writer.
Go. Now. Do it. If the answer is “no,” then skedaddle down to your local job
bank at ten tomorrow, fill out the forms, and have a nice life. But, if the
answer is “yes,” here’s the plan. Do your cussing, and kicking and boo-hooing
and then go in with a vengeance and write something with that emotion. Do it
with a full head of steam and fifth of scotch if you have to, but do it.
That’s
my word on rejection. The scotch thing is up to you. For using cool words like
bummer, deuce, and skedaddle instead of various word bombs, I humbly accept
your wide-eyed appreciation. And if you ever become as famous as London or
Rowling, I’ll accept your homage on that front, too. You’re welcome.
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Words to live by. Thanks, Sue!
ReplyDeleteSue, great article. I like to think of rejections as a learning thing in some ways. It helps us to re-write, re-write, re-write. I remember reading a quote by Carl Sandburg: "I wrote poems in my corner of the Brooks Street station. I sent them to two editors who rejected them right off. I read those letters of rejection years later and I agreed with those editors.” But I also agree some rejections really bite.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Susan! This is a timely reminder to keep a good perspective. As Ann Gabhart says, "Rejection is not fatal." Indeed it is not. :)
ReplyDeleteThank you for your comments, ladies. Excellent writers all!
ReplyDelete