I’ve been taking it on the chin lately. The last month I’ve received almost half a dozen rejections; some from magazines I thought I had a good chance of getting published in.

Rejection is a big part of the writing process…well, if you plan on getting published it is. I’ve been writing seriously for a few years now and rejection has become a big part of my life. Last year my goal was to receive at least fifty rejections (which I easily surpassed). The entire goal of the project was to thicken my skin, which it did, but it also taught me that for every ten no’s I receive, I usually get at least one yes.

Still, rejection sucks. There’s no way around it. You can cover dog shit in sprinkles but it doesn’t make it taste any better. Sometimes I can shrug a rejection off but when I’m being peppered with them like machine gun fire, it drops me to a knee. I guess no one’s invincible.

Writing is a time-devouring endeavor and now that I have a newborn son I start to consider all the hours and wonder if it’s worth it. I think about how easy it would be to just walk away from my laptop and go do something else: learn Spanish or work on the house or, I don’t know, be a better father and husband. Sure, I have publishing creds, but that big breakthrough acceptance still eludes me. It seems like it would be so much easier just to give up than continue the long trek to the Promised Land of publication.

Of course, these moments of self-doubt and insecurity are usually when I tell myself to stop being such a whiny bitch and get back to work. As Napoleon said, “Victory belongs to the most persevering” (not that persevering worked out that well for him). After all, how boring would it be if I didn’t have anything else to work toward?

In the words of President Obama’s terrible campaign slogan: FORWARD.


~ by themoderntranscendentalist on July 14, 2012.

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