A couple weeks ago a rejection landed in my inbox. It was for this writing fellowship I found about about just a few days before the application was due. I remember deciding not to endlessly debate about whether or not to apply and just complete the application to the best of my ability with the time I had. I wasn’t sure what I was writing about fully fit what they were looking for. Plus I’m pretty new to writing in this non-fiction space. Submitting the application was more about having a bias toward action and getting the experience of applying than actually thinking it was something I would get. If I’m honest, I had sort of forgotten I even applied.
Until that rejection. Which reduced me to sobs at my kitchen counter.
Wait, what? You might be asking as you read this. Which is exactly what I was asking myself in the moment, too. I wasn’t even expecting to get this. I mostly forgot I had even applied until I saw this email just now. Why am I so upset? The answer followed quickly. Sharp and clear and way less buried than I would have imagined it to be.
It’s not about this rejection.
It’s about the scores of others over the last two and a half years. The ones that came for my fiction, an area that I have been writing in for more than ten years. The close calls. The almost theres. The maybe if you just tweak this one things. The it’s not your writing it’s the market right nows. The constant cycle of hope and rejection. In which no one singular swipe brings you to your knees, but the collective of them, well— apparently leaves you sobbing at your kitchen counter on a random Tuesday over a fellowship you mostly forgot you applied for.
Listen, I know securing an agent is tough. And publishing books traditionally is super subjective and always in flux. I know that I’m a good writer. I know so many other amazing writers who also face rejection— I know I’m not alone. I know it’s a long game. I know people face rejection for 20+ years before selling to their dream publisher, so in many ways I’m a baby at this ten years in. I also know I have options other than agents and big publishing houses. I’ve used these options before and may again. And yet,
It still hurts.
I wanted to write this today as a little permission slip. For you. For me. For all of us to remember that we can know all the true and encouraging things AND still have moments in which the palpable sadness of rejection crumples us.
Because let’s be really, really, honest: to share what you have created is to face rejection. Someone will always not love what you’ve made. Sometimes they will tell you (even when you didn’t send it out on submission, expressly asking for opinions). And yes, it is imperative that we continue to make our art amidst the swirl of criticism but it is also okay to admit it hurts. And makes us feel a little broken. And that sometimes we just need a moment to sit in that rubble before we’re reminded of all the ways in which we can and will soldier on.
So if you’re also crying at your kitchen counter on a random Tuesday - consider this your virtual box of tissues as I sit quietly next to you, make you a cup of tea, and hold space for the part of the process that simply just hurts sometimes.
Things of Beauty
Just a few things that felt particularly soul-nourishing recently (or maybe just made me smile).
Speaking of tea. I love making this yogi tea. The process of watching the cinnamon sticks and cardamom pods dance around in the water always feels meditative.
Also relevant to rejection:
The podcast Quitted. I really enjoyed the two episodes (Feb 17, Feb 24) in which the hosts talk about each of their own experiences with leaving businesses they started. I also appreciate the way they talk about intentionally moving forward with the podcast in a way that feels sustainable, as it’s something I think a lot about that with my work here.
Squirrel, eating a potato chip (spotted on campus last week):
How are you this week? If you’re sitting with something hard- what sort of tea would you like? What tiny beautiful things have you seen, listened to, or sipped?
And if you’re waiting for gold to cover over some of those cracks left by rejection— please know you’re not alone.
Postscript:
In case the subtitle left you with this REM earworm.
I hate this for you, Mary Chris. I loathe everything about queries/rejection in this wonky and super weird publishing climate because I’ve had over 100 of them. I remember a girlfriend telling me that if a guy I was with made me cry I should break up with him. The last time I sat at my own kitchen counter crying because of another publishing rejection-moment, I heard her voice again.
I quit querying for all of 2022—that includes fellowships and residencies. If anyone comes back from my 2021 endeavors, I’ll be stunned.
That decision for me was also due to a realization—I've been at this 12 years, and the only way I have 3 published books, several awards, and another book due out in May (stay tuned) has nothing to do with the traditional publishing community. It is 100% because of my efforts and desire to have my voice heard in spite of their rejections. Publishing for me has been a crappy boyfriend. I'm better off single.
While my agent/publisher-embargo is not for everyone, it’s nice having only good news in my inbox again. I hope you’ll soon have oodles of good news in yours too. You ARE a good writer, and a lovely, dedicated author and business woman who has earned a space on the shelves.