Think Only Writers Get Rejected? Nope!
Two things always strike me when I get these (fairly frequent) rejection letters. The first is that I really think I need to talk to the Applicant family about the way they name their kids. What kind of handle is ‘Another’ for a kid to bear into the cruel world of kindergarten?
I have the same problem with the Candidate family. Really, I know it’s cool to give your kids fun and unusual names, but ‘Another’ will likely get your kid beat up in the playground. “Hey! Another! Can we have our ball back?”
The second thing I note is that Another Candidate and Another Applicant seem to get all the jobs I want. What have they got that I haven’t got? The name ‘Another’, perhaps? Maybe, but I think I’ll hang on to my name.
~~
Writing is about rejection a lot of the time. You already know that. Here’s something that might be news: so is editing!
I’m obviously being flip up there. I acknowledge right off the bat that I’ve had lots of Writer in Residence positions over the decades. I’ve been very fortunate in that for whatever reason, I’m sometimes chosen over so many talented mentors. I was the grateful recipient of the advice and help of many mentors and teachers over the years, and my life in this business has been largely trying to carry that on with emerging writers.
The best way to do that is to be a Writer in Residence. The rejection letter above, while encouraging, hurt like heck. It doesn’t usually, as I’m really used to this. Competition is fierce for these jobs, and when I see who has been offered the position, more often than not, I’ll nod and think, “Yup. That feels right.”
But I’m only human, and I think my humanity and vulnerability were put to the test here in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
I rarely indulge in retail therapy, but you know what they say! There’s a time for everything!
Just about nothing consoles me like a brand new pair of Chucks. And it’s January, so they were ON SALE. Then there was this, further down the hallway of the hideousness known as The Mall™:
Davids Tea’s Maple Chai. Like, eight pounds of tea. You may now imagine me tucked up on my couch, drinking a gallon of this chai, wearing my new Chucks, and scouring the web for other Writer in Residence positions that won’t take me away from Stu for long periods of time. But after a while, I have to get out of my rejection funk and get moving. Shoes and tea only go so far, and this helps deeply:
Please enjoy my crappy iPhoto colouring skillz! Mad skillz! I gots ‘em! My Bitmoji’s yoga mat is blue, and I would not use a blue yoga mat. I just wouldn’t. Hot pink or nothing. Plus, I do tend to take off my Chucks while doing this, unlike my Bitmoji who tends to wear the same clothes for every occasion. Her philosophy is the same as mine: If I can’t wear my Chucks to The Thing™, I don’t go to The Thing™.
~~
None of this is advice. This is what works for me. Whatever makes you feel better in the inevitable rejection tango we all face in one way or another in the literary world: do it. For me, a little (VERY LITTLE) wallowing and throwing my toys around, maybe buying some shoes and tea, and getting off my ass work well.